


So Much To Lose

by Spikedluv



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Partner Betrayal, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-28
Updated: 2011-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-20 20:08:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 54,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos cheats; Duncan leaves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Much To Lose

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place six years post-season six, in the year 2004. Inspired by 'Fear' written and performed by Sarah McLachlan.
> 
> Thanks: To Tammy and Lisa W. for the beta - your assistance has been invaluable. And to the gals at HLCrossroads, your encouragement and comments are deeply appreciated.
> 
> Written: December 15, 2003

Chapter One

 _April 2, 2004  
Seacouver_

Duncan was very pleased with himself. He’d scored tickets to the sold-out concert that Methos had been whining about having to miss for weeks. He’d just finished appraising several antiques found in an otherwise small and unremarkable estate for the law firm of Carne & Becker, when Lars Becker mentioned that he had tickets to the concert, but would be unable to attend. Duncan had immediately offered to purchase them, and he now held two fifth row tickets in his hot little hands. Methos would be ecstatic.

Duncan couldn’t wait to hear Methos’ response. He pulled out his cell phone as he rode the elevator down to the ground floor and dialed Methos’ cell. He frowned and shook his head when he got voice mail. The other man never answered his phone. Duncan wondered why he’d even purchased one. He checked his watch.

Methos was probably still at the bookstore. Once he entered one, you were lucky if you got him out the same day. Duncan decided to swing by the bookstore and show him the tickets. Seeing Methos’ reaction would be even better. Duncan couldn’t stop the grin that covered his face as he pushed the glass door open and stepped out into the mild spring air of Seacouver. The look on Methos’ face was sure to be priceless.

Duncan dropped his briefcase onto the back seat of the T-bird and climbed into the front. The day was nice enough that he was able to drive with the top down. He pulled out of the parking lot and drove to the bookstore Methos frequented. At the bookstore, he greeted the clerk, Marcie, by name. He hadn’t sensed Methos’ presence when he approached the building, but hoped he would once he entered the store. When he’d didn’t, Duncan asked Marcie if Adam had been in that day. She said she hadn’t seen him.

Duncan frowned. He was sure Methos had told him he was going to the bookstore. He thanked Marcie, told her that if Adam did stop in, to ask him to call Mac on his cell, and then left. He wasn’t too concerned as he drove home. He no longer worried that Methos would walk out on him without a word, and Methos tended to drop one idea when another caught his attention. Plus, he was notorious for losing track of time.

Duncan had traded his suit for a comfortable pair of old, faded blue jeans and was making supper when he felt the buzz that heralded Methos’ arrival. “Hey, you,” Duncan greeted Methos, shaking his head as the other man dropped his coat on the floor, and then looked up to make sure Duncan had seen him do it.

“Hope you’re in the mood for chicken,” Duncan said, ignoring the coat. He put the finishing touches on the chicken breasts he’d stuffed with spinach and cheese, and placed them in the warmed oven.

“I could be,” Methos replied, stepping up behind Duncan and pressing him into the counter. Methos gripped Duncan’s hips and placed a kiss on his neck.

Duncan shivered. “I’ve got something for you,” he said.

“Mmm, I’ve got something for you, too,” Methos said, nuzzling Duncan’s neck.

Duncan laughed and pushed back with his butt. “No! I mean, I’ve really got something for you,” he insisted.

“Yes, you do.” Methos ignored Duncan’s protest, as he reached around the other man and cupped his groin. “And quite impressive it is, too. Or, it will be.”

“Methos!” Duncan laughed breathlessly as Methos’ breath tickled his neck and his fingers fondled his growing erection. “Stop!” he pleaded. “I promise you’ll really like it,” he cajoled.

“I really like this,” Methos countered.

“You can have both. Methos.” Duncan turned in Methos’ arms and kissed the other man. “Trust me, love.” He kissed him again, just because he tasted so good, and then pulled out of his arms. Methos gave a deep, put-upon sigh, and opened the refrigerator door to retrieve a beer.

“You smell good,” Duncan said as he walked over to his desk where he had stashed the tickets. “New cologne?”

“No,” Methos replied after a nearly imperceptible hesitation. “I got too close to one of those girls at the mall.”

Duncan paid little attention to Methos’ answer, his attention already focused on the concert tickets and the reaction he expected to receive. He pulled them out of the drawer and walked back over to the kitchen where Methos was leaning against the island, sipping his beer. He was wearing a pair of black jeans and a black Henley, and Duncan thought he looked good enough to eat.

“Here,” he said, holding out the tickets and waiting for Methos to take them.

Methos pretended to be uninterested. He took the tickets with another deep sigh, and then casually turned them over and looked at them as he took another sip of beer. His reaction was everything Duncan had hoped for, except for Methos spitting his mouthful of beer all over him, of course.

“Methos!” Duncan cried out, at the same time Methos cried, “Jesus, Mac!”

Methos threw his beer on the counter, where it luckily landed on its base, and then launched himself at Duncan. He placed kisses all over the other man’s beer-spattered face, and if Duncan wasn’t mistaken, actually licked some of the beer off, before pulling back and looking at the tickets again.

“How’d you do it?” he asked, excitedly.

Duncan shrugged and rubbed his nails on his chest in an ‘I’m good’ gesture, as he wiped the back of his other hand over his face.

“You’re the best, Mac!” Methos cried, jumping Duncan again, and bearing him to the floor.

“Methos...” Duncan’s protest was cut off as Methos kissed him, and then dropped the tickets and tore at the catch of Duncan’s jeans.

After Methos made sure Duncan was convinced of his undying gratitude, the two men showered and ate. Over dishes, Duncan remembered that he was annoyed that Methos hadn’t answered his cell phone.

“I called you this afternoon to tell you about the tickets,” Duncan said, rinsing the plate he had just washed. “You didn’t answer your phone. Again.”

Methos shrugged. “I turned it off,” he said.

“Yeah,” Duncan agreed. “Which kind of defeats the purpose of having one, no?”

“I was at the bookstore,” Methos explained. “You know I hate being bothered when I’m at the bookstore. Plus, it disturbs the other shoppers.”

Duncan froze in his scrubbing of the pan. “You were at the bookstore?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Methos looked at Duncan as if he had two heads. “I told you that’s where I was going, right?”

“Yes, that’s where you told me you were going,” Duncan said. “You were there this afternoon?”

“All day,” Methos said. “You know how I lose track of time.”

“Yes,” Duncan replied distractedly. “Was Marcie there?”

“Yeah.” Methos put the plates he had dried away. “She said to say ‘hi’.”

Duncan felt his world crack at the lie.

~*~*~*~

Duncan hadn’t said anything to Methos that night about his own visit to the bookstore; he hadn’t known what to say. He was in shock, unable to believe that Methos had lied to him. He wondered where Methos had been, that he couldn’t tell him about it. Maybe Methos had been shopping for a gift for him, but it wasn’t even close to his birthday. Or perhaps Methos just needed some alone time, but he should be able to tell him that.

And then Duncan remembered the new cologne and Methos’ statement that he’d been to the mall. But he couldn’t have been to the mall if he’d been at the bookstore all day, so that was two lies. The next time Methos told Duncan that he was going to the bookstore, Duncan cancelled his appointments and followed him. He felt awful for not trusting Methos, but he had to know where the other man went.

Methos went to the bookstore, but Duncan didn’t feel reassured. The next time Methos left for the bookstore, he followed again. This time Methos led him to an apartment building near the University. After Methos disappeared inside the building, Duncan parked his car down the block and got out. As he neared the building, an elderly woman approached from the other direction. She was carrying a grocery bag, and Duncan hurried up the steps to hold the door for her.

“Ma’am,” he said, “perhaps you can help me. I thought I just saw a friend of mine go inside, but I didn’t know he was back at the University. His name is Adam, do you...”

“Oh, yes, Adam,” she interrupted Duncan before he could finish. “He’s such a nice boy. He doesn’t live here, though, just comes to visit his friend, Cameron.”

“Cameron?” Duncan asked stupidly.

“Yes. They think I don’t know, but I recognize the signs.” Her eyes twinkled merrily.

“Signs?” Duncan could barely get the word out.

“Love, of course. They make such a cute couple,” she enthused. “I saw them holding hands once,” she lowered her voice as if sharing a confidence.

Duncan couldn’t breathe. Methos. And Cameron. Love. Holding hands.

“Are you all right?” the woman asked with a neighborly concern.

“What? Oh, yes, thank you. Have a nice day,” Duncan replied politely, then shut the door and walked unsteadily back to his car. He fell into the seat and slumped down. His chest ached; he felt as if a large fist were squeezing his heart, and he wanted to cry, or scream out with the pain of it. Or both.

Methos was seeing someone else. Methos had lied to him and was cheating on him. Methos was in love, holding hands, with someone else. Methos wouldn’t hold hands with him in public. Methos was seeing someone else. The thought reverberated in Duncan’s head and he couldn’t stop it.

Duncan looked up just as Methos and another man exited the building. Cameron was blond with chiseled features and wore glasses, Duncan noted. They got into Methos’ car, and Duncan followed them. They went to the zoo, and then back to Cameron’s apartment. Duncan sat outside the apartment for the three hours Methos was inside, picturing the two men making love.

When Methos finally exited the building alone, Duncan let him pull away, and then turned his T-bird around and went home another way. If Methos noticed Duncan’s desperation when they made love that night, he didn’t mention it.

For the next three weeks Duncan followed Methos. Of the three times a week Methos told Duncan he was going to the bookstore, he went to the bookstore once. The other two times, he visited Cameron. Duncan followed them to the museum and the park, to the University library, and to the beach. The day he saw Methos kiss Cameron in public was the day his world finally shattered into pieces too small to gather up and glue back together.

He was waiting for Methos when the older Immortal arrived home that afternoon. He had wanted a drink when he got back to the loft, but didn’t want to be able to blame anything he might say or do on the liquor. He wanted to be in complete control of his faculties, and so he just sat on the couch waiting for Methos to return.

“Hey, Mac,” Methos greeted him as if nothing was amiss.

“Methos,” Duncan replied evenly.

“How was your day?” Methos asked as he leaned over the couch to give Duncan a kiss.

Duncan didn’t respond to the kiss. “Fine,” he said. “Yours?” How could Methos come to him after he'd been with Cameron and pretend that nothing was wrong? Duncan raged inside. Come to him and kiss him, make love to him after he had been with another man?

“Great!” Methos responded, and Duncan cringed as if he’d been slapped. “I got you something.” He tossed a bag into Duncan’s lap and then headed for the kitchen and a beer.

Duncan read the bag, ‘Book Lovers Anonymous’. Without speaking he dumped the contents into his lap. A book he’d mentioned wanting fell out.

“What is this?” he asked.

“A book,” Methos drawled, sitting beside Duncan on the couch.

“Why?” Duncan asked. He thought about all the other little gifts Methos had bought for him over the past couple of months. Guilt?

“It’s a gift,” Methos replied, drawing out the last word as if speaking it slowly and clearly would help Duncan understand it. Duncan just raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Methos sighed in exasperation. “A gift, MacLeod. Just because I love you.”

“Do you?” Duncan asked.

“Do I what?” Methos stopped the beer bottle mid-air to ask, and then took a sip.

“Love me.”

“Of course I love you,” Methos said, after swallowing his beer.

“Are you in love with me?” Duncan asked.

“What’s this about, Mac?”

“Are you?” Duncan pressed, his voice toneless.

“Yes, of course I am!”

“Of course,” Duncan repeated. “What does that mean to you?”

“What does ‘what’ mean?” Methos asked, confusion furrowing his brow.

“Love, being in love. What does that mean to you?”

“It means, I love you. What are you getting at? Did I leave the toilet seat up again?” he tried to tease Duncan out of whatever mood had overtaken him.

“You know what it means to me?” Duncan asked, and then continued without waiting for an answer. “It means trust. And respect. Loyalty. Honesty. And monogamy,” he finished, and then looked into Methos’ eyes. “Does it mean any of those things to you, Methos?” he asked.

Methos stared at him, frozen in mid-motion, the rim of the beer bottle pressed against his lips.

“How long have you been seeing Cameron?” Duncan asked.

“Cameron who?” Methos prevaricated, slowly lowering the bottle.

“Don’t,” Duncan spit out.

“How do you know about Cameron?” Methos swallowed hard.

“How long?” Duncan growled.

“Six months,” Methos answered.

"Are you sleeping with him?" Duncan asked.

Methos hesitated, then said, "Yes."

“Are you in love with him?”

“Does it matter?” Methos asked.

“Oddly enough, yes,” Duncan replied. “When I imagine the two of you together, I want to be able to twist the knife just that much deeper by hearing your voice in my head saying that you love him.”

“Mac...”

“Get out, Methos,” Duncan said, turning away from the other man.

“Duncan...”

“Get. Out.”

~*~*~*~

Joe watched Methos with a frown on his face. The world’s oldest Immortal sat in the corner getting drunk. Methos hadn’t said what was wrong, but Joe figured that he and Mac must have had a fight. That was the only time he’d see one without the other. They were practically joined at the hips, nowadays. The phone rang, and Joe picked it up.

“Joe’s,” he barked into the receiver. “Mac!” Joe cried when he recognized the voice on the other end of the line. “Thank God. Are you going to come and pick up the Old Man? I think he’s well on his way to getting pickled.”

Joe listened to Duncan’s response. His eyes got wide, and his mouth fell open. This didn’t sound like Mac, not at all. He hung up the telephone and shuffled over to Methos’ table. He carefully lowered himself onto a chair, and then leaned heavily on the cane he placed between his legs.

“Mac just called,” he said.

Methos didn’t respond, but Joe didn’t miss the hopeful look in his eyes. Joe hated to be the one to wipe it out.

“He said to tell you that you could pick the T-bird up at the airport,” Joe told him.

“What?” Methos spoke for the first time since entering the bar and ordering the bottle of whiskey.

“He said...”

“Got that part,” Methos interrupted. “What’s it mean?”

“He said he’s leaving. Didn’t tell me where. Said he’d keep in touch...”

~*~*~*~

Methos was on his feet and out the door before Joe finished speaking. He made it back to the loft in record time. Mac’s T-bird wasn’t parked outside and there was no buzz as he climbed the outside steps to the loft. Methos unlocked the door and raced into the loft. It was empty. He ran over to the sleeping area and pulled Duncan’s drawers open. Everything looked neat, but Methos could tell that some of Duncan’s clothes were missing.

He checked the closet. Duncan’s duffel bag and the container he carried his sword in were both gone. Methos groaned low in his throat. Mac couldn’t leave him. He was the one who left; Mac always stayed. He was the fucking clan chieftain. Clan chieftains don’t get to pick up and leave, damn it! He had to get to the airport.

On his way to the door, Methos saw several items scattered on the kitchen island. He paused to look at them. Beneath Duncan's extra set of keys for the loft and the T-bird were two pieces of paper. One was the title to the T-bird; Duncan had signed the back. The other was a copy of the deed for the dojo with a note that the original would be mailed upon recording; Duncan had transferred ownership of the building to Adam Pierson.

Duncan leaving hadn’t been spur-of-the-moment, Methos realized, if he’d had time to organize his paperwork. He wondered how long the other man had known about Cameron, and then turned his attention to the other items on the island. Beside the papers was the book he had given Duncan earlier that evening.

Methos picked up the last items, the two tickets to the concert that Duncan had gotten for him. The earlier revelation that Duncan knew about Cameron and then throwing him out of the loft combined with Duncan’s abrupt departure were too much. Methos felt his heart fracture as he realized what he’d done, what he’d cost himself. He dropped to his knees on the floor and slumped against the island. Lowering his head to his hand and crushing the tickets to his chest, he let fall the tears he’d been battling back all afternoon.

Chapter Two

 _May 6, 2004  
Seacouver_

Methos had a job to do. He was going to get drunk. It was Thursday night, one week and one day after Duncan had left Seacouver; left him. It was the night of the concert. The two concert tickets lay on the coffee table next to their entire stock of liquor; or what was left of it. One of Duncan’s CDs played, bathing the loft in soft music. Candles were lit.

Methos emptied the bottle of The Glenlivet into his glass, and then set the empty bottle back onto the coffee table. He leaned back against the couch, toasted the tickets, and drank. He remembered the day he’d come home and Duncan had surprised him with the tickets. He’d spent the day with Cameron and had come home hungry for Duncan.

He was always eager to make love with Duncan, but never more so than after spending a day with Cameron. He’d never wondered about that before, but he did now. Why would sleeping with another man make him want Duncan more? For the hundredth time he wished that he’d told Duncan that he didn’t love Cameron. Would Duncan have stayed if he’d said that?

Not that it would have been a lie. He didn’t love Cameron. He liked him, desired him, but he didn’t love him. Not like he loved Duncan. Never like he loved Duncan. Why, then? Why had he slept with the other man? He hadn’t given that much thought before, either. Perhaps because he knew that if he gave it enough importance to think about, it would have to be important enough for him to feel guilty about.

And Methos wasn’t about to feel guilty. He told himself that he wasn’t hurting anyone. That he needed this; this time away from Duncan. Time to be himself, without being smothered by Duncan’s need, his desire, his love. He’d been so afraid of being suffocated in their relationship; of being overshadowed, that he’d found a place where he could still be him. And now he realized that he didn’t want to be just him. More importantly, he realized that it had never been about being ‘him’ or being ‘Duncan’s lover’, but had always been about being ‘them’. About taking two separate lives and making them mesh as one; building something special.

If Duncan had asked him to choose between them, he would have chosen Duncan; he would have told Duncan that he had no right to make him choose, but still, he would have chosen Duncan. Did he really believe that Duncan had no right to make him choose? Probably not, but who was going to tell him different? Not Duncan; he’d left. He’d left without asking him to choose. Methos finished the drink and leaned forward. This time he reached for the Johnnie Walker Gold.

Two bottles later, he felt the buzz of Immortal presence. Great, he thought. Just great. Actually, maybe this was the answer. Get taken out by an unknown Immortal while drunk and pining for Duncan. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about the hangover or the pain in his chest that wouldn’t go away. The world’s oldest Immortal, done in by love. Or rather, done in by his own lies. The saying ‘hoisted on his own petard’ floated through his head.

What would he have done if he found out that Duncan had been seeing someone else? That didn’t bear thinking about. That way lay even more guilt and misery. He looked around. Actually, he couldn’t get more miserable. He reached for his sword. At least he’d die with his sword in his hand. There was a knock on the door. Hmm, he thought, polite; probably not a hunter, then.

“Go away!” he yelled.

“Methos?” Amanda’s voice called back. “Let me in, Methos!” She pounded on the door.

“Go away!” Methos repeated, dropping the sword and surveying his remaining choices. Perhaps he’d go Irish this time, he thought, as he opened the Bushmills Black.

He groaned when he heard the door open. Bloody hell! He’d forgotten she had her own key. Should have gotten the locks changed. Methos ignored her as she stomped over to the couch, her heels clicking on the wooden floor. He filled the glass, sniffed it, and then took a sip. He leaned back against the couch and took another sip.

Amanda dropped her bag and stood with her hands on her hips, staring daggers at Methos. “What are you doing?” she demanded, when she was sick of being ignored.

“Getting drunk,” Methos replied, taking another sip.

“I think you passed that station a ways back,” Amanda noted, as she surveyed the coffee table. “Where’s Duncan?”

“Gone,” Methos said, and drained his glass. He sat up and reached for the still open bottle of Bushmills.

“What do you mean, gone?” Amanda asked, grabbing the bottle out of Methos’ reach.

“Gone! Now, give me the fucking bottle,” he growled.

“Methos,” Amanda said, skipping out of his reach and watching helplessly as he grabbed another bottle and opened it. He didn’t even bother pouring any of it into the glass, just drank straight from the bottle. “Methos, please tell me what’s wrong,” she pleaded. She couldn’t remember ever seeing the older Immortal like this. “What are you doing?”

“Seeing how long it takes before I can drink myself to death,” he replied, toasting her with the bottle. “Shouldn’t be long now.”

“Methos,” she breathed his name in anguish. “What’s wrong?”

“Duncan. Left,” he said. “I fucked up, as we all knew I would, and he left me. Cheers,” he said, blinked back tears, and took another long drink.

“Why?” Amanda asked, stunned. The last time she visited they had been so happy. What could have happened to make Duncan leave?

“I cheated on him,” Methos said. That was the first time he’d said it. The first time he’d thought it. The first time he’d let himself think of it as cheating, rather than saving a piece of himself. “I cheated on him,” Methos said it again, liking the way it made his chest clench and ache. “I cheated on him,” his voice cracked, and he dropped the bottle he was holding; it hit the couch and rolled off, trailing spilled whiskey.

Amanda grabbed the bottle before it could roll under the coffee table. She set it and the one she was holding beside the four empty bottles already on the low table.

Methos had curled in on himself. “I cheated on him,” he repeated brokenly. “I cheated on him.”

“Methos,” Amanda said with compassion. She climbed onto the couch, ignoring the spilled whiskey that soaked into her pants, and pulled him into her arms.

His body shuddered. “I cheated on him,” he said one last time, and then he began to sob.

When Methos had stopped crying, Amanda laid him down on the couch and went to the bathroom for a wet cloth. She wiped his face with the cool cloth, and then placed it over his eyes. While he lay on the couch she cleared off the coffee table, throwing the empties into the garbage and dumping the rest down the sink.

When she returned to the living room, Methos was sitting up, slouched forward with his elbows on his knees, playing with the cloth. She sat down beside him and laid her hand on his arm. “Want to talk?”

“Really nothing left to say,” Methos replied. “I cheated; he left. End of story.”

“Where did he go?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Methos said.

“Have you looked...”

“Of course I’ve bloody looked!” he yelled, and then took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. “He flew into LAX. No sign of him after that. He could have flown out under another name, or taken the bus or train to the next town and flown out from there. I’ve checked Paris, and Scotland, and Toronto. I checked Bora, Bora. I even checked Japan, and the monastery in Malaysia. He doesn’t want to be found.”

“Then we wait until he comes back...”

“He’s not coming back,” Methos said through clenched teeth.

“What do you mean?” Amanda asked. “Of course he’ll come back. He’s got the dojo, and...”

“He has nothing to come back for. Not the car, not the dojo, and certainly not me!” Methos stood up and stormed over to the island. “He gave me the car,” he threw the title at Amanda and it fluttered to the floor, “he gave me the dojo,” he threw the copy of the deed, “and he left the bloody book!” He picked the book up and threw it at the wall. “And he left the fucking tickets!” he cried plaintively, pointing at the tickets that still lay on the coffee table.

Amanda was silent as she digested this new information. “Does Joe know where he is?” she asked.

Methos shook his head ‘no’ as he fell back against the island. “He’s e-mailed Joe to let him know that he’s all right, but he won’t say where he is.”

“Have you tried to contact him?” Amanda asked.

Methos just looked at her. “Of course I’ve tried to contact him. He won’t answer my calls. And he bounces my mails.” Methos remembered the last time Duncan had chastised him for not answering his phone. He’d been with Cameron and Duncan had wanted to tell him about the tickets. Now Duncan wouldn’t answer his phone. Methos wanted to beg him to come back, beg for forgiveness, promise to do anything, but he wouldn’t take the calls, or accept the mails.

“Why?” Amanda asked softly.

Methos didn’t even pretend not to understand. “I was afraid,” he said. “I felt like I was losing ‘me’ in ‘us’. Mac, Duncan, he loves so...” He floundered for the right word.

“Completely?” Amanda suggested. “Deeply? Wholly?”

Methos nodded. “I was afraid there wouldn’t be anything of me left, and that scared me. I needed something that was still me.”

“So you decided to cheat? You couldn’t have found a hobby? Like...painting, or writing?” Amanda asked sharply.

Methos didn’t reply. He pressed his lips together and squeezed his eyes shut in a vain attempt to keep the tears from flowing. “Do you think he thinks I don’t love him? That I never loved him?” he asked pitifully.

~*~*~*~

 _May 3, 2004  
Somewhere Else_

Duncan MacLeod no longer existed. He had decided to use the one thing that Methos taught him - how to disappear. He knew that changing his name didn’t change who he was, only time would do that. And he had plenty of time. Duncan took the first flight out of Seacouver and ended up in L.A.; within twelve hours he had new papers and had purchased a brand new Chevy Blazer. He got on Interstate 10 and headed east, spending the night in Phoenix, Arizona.

He got back on the highway the next morning; Route 17 north to Interstate 40, and then east into Albuquerque, New Mexico. The next day he headed north on Interstate 25 and spent the night outside Denver, Colorado. The following morning he headed east on Interstate 76, merging with Interstate 80 and continuing east. That night he stopped in a small town outside of Kearney, Nebraska and checked into a motel. It was his fifth night away from home. Away from Seacouver and Methos.

When he awoke on the fifth morning, a clear Monday, he dressed in a clean pair of jeans paired with a dark blue t-shirt under a gray sweatshirt, and pulled his long hair back in a clasp. The spring morning was crisp and cool. He asked the clerk at the front desk where he could get breakfast, and was directed to Belle’s Diner. The sign outside advertised the farmer’s big breakfast special and the best apple pie in the county.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside, quickly surveying the nearly full diner until he found an empty seat at the counter. He sat down and a cup of coffee was immediately set before him, a laminated menu plopped down beside it.

“That’s high-test,” the waitress said. “You look like you could use it. If you need decaf, let me know.” She was still speaking as she grabbed plates from the warmer behind her and slung them down before two men seated further down the counter.

“Uh, no, this is fine,” he said when she passed him again. She smiled and winked at him, and he felt like smiling back for the first time in almost four weeks. She was in her forties, he estimated, slender, with red hair pulled back in a ponytail, blue eyes, and freckles across her nose. Her name tag identified her as Clara. Instead of the usual uniform of ugly pink dress and thick-soled shoes, she wore a pair of blue jeans and a maroon t-shirt that had ‘Belle’s Diner’ printed on the pocket.

He sipped his coffee while he perused the menu, and then tossed it aside. When Clara buzzed by with the coffee pot, offering refills along the counter, she took his order for the farmer’s big breakfast. He hadn’t eaten much since he left Seacouver and he was suddenly famished. Ten minutes later, a steaming platter of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and home fries was set before him and his coffee cup refilled.

“Getcha anything else?” Clara asked.

“No, this looks like enough,” he said, surveying the platter with trepidation.

“You just let me know if you need anything else, hon,” Clara said, and then she was gone.

While waiting for his breakfast, he’d casually examined the diner. It was nonsmoking, as all restaurants were these days, and clean. Booths lined the walls, with metal tables and padded straight-back chairs, reminiscent of the 1950's, in the center. The walls were painted an off-white and decorated with paintings, sketches, and photographs; a stunning combination of still-lifes, landscapes, and portraits. He noticed that a business card was stuck in the corner of each frame.

The patrons were a diverse lot. Blue jeans and flannel shirts mixed with suits and ties and pierced eyebrows. As he ate, he listened to the local gossip. Someone named Sarah had lost her cat again; Miss Jessie’s handyman had quit; there was a sale at Lambert’s Supplies; the captain of the football team had gotten his girlfriend pregnant; the interest rates on mortgages had gone down a point; and Candy Joe had left Billy Ray at the altar when he showed up at their wedding drunk as a skunk.

When he finished his breakfast, and Clara swooped by to remove his plate, he asked her about the paintings, sketches, and photos. “Are they by local artists?” he asked.

“Some,” Clara said with another smile, dumping the dirty plate and silverware in a plastic bin. “There’s a small gallery down the road that sells ‘em on commission. For such a small town, we’ve got some talent. Must be something in the water,” she smiled. “More coffee?”

“No, I...,” he began, but was interrupted by a loud catcall from the back of the diner.

“Good lord, little girl, your momma ain’t gonna let you out in that outfit!” a deep male voice called out.

“Shut up, Roy,” a young female voice retorted, and he and Clara turned toward the commotion.

A young girl was making her way through the crowd to the counter. She had dark brown hair with natural red highlights and brown eyes in a heart-shaped face. She was wearing a black mini skirt with fringe at the hem, that started well below her belly button and barely reached the top of her thighs. A purple mid-drift baring tank top, a silver belly button ring, and a pair of platform sandals completed the ensemble. She stopped walking and stood staring defiantly at Clara.

“Isabelle Marie, what do you think you’re wearing?” Clara asked, as she leaned on the counter.

“The skirt I bought at the mall on Saturday,” Isabelle Marie replied defensively.

“That’s not a skirt, that’s a postage stamp!” Clara replied. “Go change.”

“Momma!” Isabelle Marie whined.

“Now,” Clara said, brooking no nonsense, “or you’ll be waiting tables tonight, instead of going to the baseball game.”

“You and this town and everyone in it are so...provincial!” Isabelle Marie exclaimed, and then turned on her heels and stormed back through the diner.

“Told ya,” he heard the satisfied voice of the man who had originally spoken to Isabelle Marie.

“Shut up, Roy!”

He felt his lips twitch. “You think that’s funny?” Clara turned her ire on him. He shut his lips firmly and shook his head, and then grinned.

“Just thinking that you handled that wonderfully. And thanking God that it was you, and not me, dealing with it,” he admitted.

“Yeah, well,” Clara sighed and shook her head. “I thought the terrible twos was going to be the worst of it. And then she turned twelve, and hated me, and everything about this ‘backward’ town. I still thought I’d seen the worst of it. Then she got breasts and started dating,” Clara said. “I’m in Hell,” she added with a deep sigh.

Clara put his bill down in front of him, and then moved off to clear some more dishes from the counter. He paid his bill, leaving a generous tip, and left the diner. He stopped outside and took a deep breath. This place felt peaceful, and he didn’t feel like getting in his car and driving right away. He decided to go for a walk, and started down the sidewalk.

He passed the Savings & Loan, Lambert’s - pausing to check out the sale notices, Buster’s Soda Fountain and Pharmacy, Nora’s Books & Gifts, and the gallery Clara had mentioned, Picture Perfect. Across the street was a park, with swings, benches, and a covered pool. Further back were a tennis court and a ball field. He kept walking and the buildings turned residential. There were trees, lawns, and flower beds. A sign at the edge of a macadam roadbed indicated the direction of the river and advertised boat docking, fishing, and a picnic area.

He crossed the street and turned back. Just before he reached the park, he noticed a sign for the Riverview Bed & Breakfast. He turned into the driveway and followed it up a small incline. When he reached the front lawn of the B&B he turned around. There was a lovely view of the river winding among the trees.

“Can I help you?” a young, high-pitched voice asked.

He turned around to see a small child riding a tricycle along the driveway. She had long blonde hair that curled around her face and was wearing a pair of blue jean overalls, a long-sleeved yellow t-shirt, and blue sneakers. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the handlebars as she stared at him.

He knelt down so that they were nearly face-to-face. “You might be able to help me,” he said.

“You here for the handyman job?” she asked.

He realized that this must be ‘Miss Jessie’s’ place. “I might be. What would I have to do?” he asked, as he shifted and lowered himself onto the grass beside the driveway.

“Hank mowed the lawn and did the flower beds,” she replied, and then pursed her lips as she thought. “He carried a hammer sometimes.”

“Does it pay well?” he asked.

Her eyes shifted. “Uh huh,” she said, nodding sagely. “It must be a lot, ‘cause Grandma always said she paid Hank too darn much.”

He lowered his head to hide his smile. “What’s your name?” he asked.

She narrowed her little blue eyes. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” she said.

“That’s a very good policy,” he said. “Perhaps you should introduce me to your Grandma. Then, if I’m the handyman, I won’t be a stranger, will I?” he asked.

“Nicole, what are you doing out here?” They were interrupted by the worried voice of Nicole’s grandmother.

“I found a new handyman,” Nicole replied excitedly.

“Did you?” Her grandmother moved slowly down the porch steps as she examined him.

“Ma’am.” He stood, swiping at the seat of his jeans.

“What’s your name, young man?” she asked.

“Ian,” he said. “Ian Richards.” Duncan wiped his hand off on the leg of his jeans and then offered it to the woman before him.

“Jessica Wright,” she said, accepting his handshake. “Nicole and I run this Bed & Breakfast. You looking for a job?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said without thinking, “I am.”

“You been a handyman before, have you?” she asked.

“I’ve done a little bit of everything.” Duncan smiled at the understatement.

“There’s a small apartment in the back that comes with the position, plus $200 a week. The job includes mowing, weeding, painting, lifting, and anything else that needs doing. There’s no set hours; a bed could break or a toilet spring a leak at any hour of the day or night,” she went on with her explanation. “Still interested?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Duncan replied. It sounded like just the thing to help him get over Methos.

“Call me Jessie,” she said, waving her hand at him. “Ma’am makes me feel so old. Come on inside,” she directed. “We can talk while I clean up breakfast dishes, and then we’ll show you around."

Chapter Three

 _September 8, 2004  
Riverview B&B_

Duncan rose to his feet and brushed off the knees of his jeans when he heard the school bus pull to a stop at the end of the driveway. He’d been weeding the flowerbeds, creating busywork at the front of the house as he waited for Nicole to arrive home from her first day of school. He heard the front screen door of the Riverview Bed & Breakfast fly open behind him as Jessie ran out onto the porch to greet Nicole. They had both been concerned about how her first day had gone.

Just last night she’d informed them that she didn’t need to go to school because ‘Grandma teaches me everything I need to know’, and had begged to be allowed to stay home and paint the shed with Ian. When Duncan suggested that she’d meet other young children her age to play with and make friends with, she’d looked at him, almost shocked at the suggestion, and said, ‘But I have you!’ ‘Yes, you do,’ he’d replied, blinking back sudden tears at her innocent, heartfelt words.

The young girl ran up the drive, her Winnie the Pooh™ book bag hanging from her hand, the straps dragging on the ground, her braids flying behind her. “Grandma! Ian!” she cried happily as she raced towards them.

“Nicole!” Jessie called, moving carefully down the front steps.

“Hey, cutie,” Duncan greeted her as she ran at him and lifted her arms so he could pick her up. He swung her around and pulled her close for a hug, then set her down so she could hug her grandmother. They smiled over her head, pleased to see that she’d obviously had a good first day.

“I need a snack,” Nicole said breathlessly as she stepped away from her grandmother’s legs.

“Rough day?” Duncan asked with a grin.

“I had to ask the teacher to go to the bathroom,” Nicole complained, slipping one hand into Duncan’s and the other into her grandmother’s, and leading the way back to the house. “Did you bake a chocolate cake?” she asked hopefully.

“No,” Jessie said, and watched as Nicole pouted. “Might have just taken a batch of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven, though.”

“Really?” Nicole’s head popped up and she grinned, and then began pulling them towards the house. “Think they’re cool enough to eat?” she asked.

~*~*~*~

Duncan had been living at the Bed & Breakfast and working for Jessie Wright since early May. Four months. It felt like more. And other times it felt like he had just left Seacouver. The first day he met Jessie and Nicole, Jessie carefully grilled him as they’d chatted over breakfast clean-up, and then the two ladies had shown him through the house and around the property, pointing out the shed where the lawn mower and other equipment was stored, and then the small apartment in what had once been the carriage house a hundred years ago.

After the tour he walked back to the motel, checked out, and drove back to Riverview. He deposited his bag and sword in the small apartment, and then walked around the property, checking out the lawn, the state of the flowerbeds, and the condition of the buildings. He realized that he was going to need something other than his cowboy boots to work in. He went into the house to tell Jessie that he needed to get a pair of work shoes, and to find out where he could purchase them.

He found Jessie and Nicole in one of the bedrooms; Jessie was changing the linen and Nicole was dusting.

“Hi,” Duncan said. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Not at all,” Jessie said, looking up from the sheet corner she was tucking in. “Settle in all right?” she asked.

“Yes, thanks. I just realized, I’m going to need a pair of work shoes. Can you tell me where...”

“Lambert’s,” Jessie said immediately. “They have a little bit of everything there. And you’re in luck. They’re having a sale.”

Duncan smiled. “Yeah, I heard about that at the diner. I also need to do some laundry...”

“There’s a machine on the first floor, utility room beside the kitchen. You can use it whenever it’s free.” She smiled over at him. “Which isn’t often. Got a load you want to throw in now, before we finish with the bedding?”

“Yes, thanks. I’ll do that, and then head down to Lambert’s.”

“First lunch,” Jessie corrected. “Then Lambert’s.”

After a lunch of turkey, cheese, and lettuce sandwiches with a side of homemade potato salad, Duncan helped clean up the dishes, and then restated his intention to head down to Lambert’s.

“Can I go?” Nicole asked excitedly.

“Nicole!” her grandmother scolded. “You know better than to invite yourself along. That’s not polite.”

“Sorry.” Nicole pouted, turning wide blue eyes on Duncan. It would take a stronger man than he to deny her.

“I don’t mind,” he said, and Nicole practically beamed at him. “If, uh, that’s all right with you,” he said, remembering belatedly to get her grandmother’s permission.

“It’s all right with me,” Jessie replied. “I can get my vacuuming done in peace. But don’t you let her wind you around her little finger, my boy. Those eyes,” she warned too late, “are a weapon.”

Duncan blushed; Nicole smiled and blinked up at him innocently.

On the walk to Lambert’s, Nicole slid her hand into Duncan’s. “I’m not supposed to go anywhere without holding an adult’s hand,” she informed him.

“Is that so?” he asked, closing his fingers around her tiny hand.

Nicole introduced him to Ted Lambert, the second generation of Lambert’s to run the store. Ted was a balding man in his late sixties, tall and lean, except for a bulging middle that he blamed on his wife’s good cooking. Duncan purchased a pair of work boots and several pair of work pants and t-shirts. Dickies™ were on sale, Ted informed him helpfully.

With his purchases in one hand, and Nicole’s hand in the other, they left the store. Nicole gazed wistfully at Buster’s. “Do you like ice cream?” she asked.

“Yes,” he answered cautiously.

“What kind?” she asked.

“Lots of different kinds, but chocolate is my favorite,” Duncan told her.

“Really?” Nicole asked delightedly. “Mine, too! They have the best chocolate at Buster’s. Ever been there?”

“No,” Duncan answered, even more cautiously.

“Wanna get some?”

“Shouldn’t we get back? Your grandmother’s probably worried...”

“She won’t be done vacuuming yet,” Nicole said authoritatively. “We could always take her a dish. Her favorite is butter pecan.”

“Well...”

Nicole pulled on Duncan’s hand and led him to the street corner. They waited for the only light in town to change, and then crossed the street. When they returned to Riverview with a dish of butter pecan ice cream, Jessie just shook her head and sighed.

~*~*~*~

The rest of Duncan’s first day at Riverview was spent inspecting the interior of the house. It was an old house, and he found several projects he could work on when the weather didn’t allow him to work outside. He helped Jessie prepare and serve dinner to the couple staying at the Bed & Breakfast, and then ate with Jessie and Nicole in the kitchen.

After cleaning up dinner dishes, Duncan returned to his apartment, a basket of folded clothes under his arm. He unpacked his meager belongings, stored his sword beside the front door, and then pulled out his laptop and turned it on. He checked his e-mail for only the second time since leaving Seacouver.

The first time he’d checked his account to let Joe know he was all right when he reached Phoenix, he found several messages from Methos. He’d deleted them without reading them, and then set his account to refuse messages received from Methos’ address. He knew that Methos could get around this by changing his address, but hoped that the older Immortal wouldn’t do that.

This time, there were two messages from prospective clients and one message from Joe. He replied to the clients, informing them that he was no longer in the appraisal business, and then read Joe’s message from two days before. Joe let him know that they’d picked up the car at the airport, begged him to get in touch again, since it had been a couple days since the last mail, and told him that Methos was a mess. Duncan took a deep breath, and hit the reply button.

He told Joe that he was fine and staying in one place for a while, assured him that he’d contact him in a couple days, and asked Joe not to discuss Methos in any future mails. It hurt too much to think about the other man; not that Joe not mentioning his name would keep Duncan from thinking about him. He turned the laptop off and checked his phone.

He had turned off the voice mail function after the first night, when the sound of Methos’ voice had hit him like a fist to the gut. The caller i.d. function indicated that he had received two calls from Joe, and five from Methos. He deleted them and turned the phone back off.

That night he fell asleep to images of Methos and Cameron making love in the bed at the loft that he and Methos had once shared.

~*~*~*~

Duncan had spent the summer mowing the lawn, trimming bushes, and weeding flowerbeds. He scraped and painted the front porch; fixed leaking faucets and a broken hot water heater; repaired a wobbly step and a crooked door. When Jessie was overwhelmed, he babysat Nicole, who loved to read to him and brush and braid his long hair, and helped cook meals for the guests.

In the mornings before he began work, he performed his katas and trained with his sword. He hadn’t sensed any Immortal presence since arriving at Riverview, but it would be unwise to not remain in practice. He share coffee and breakfast with Jessie before Nicole and the guests were up, and then he would head out to begin his chores while Jessie started breakfast for their visitors.

Twice a week he checked his e-mail and shot a mail off to Joe. He didn’t tell him where he was or what he was doing, just that he was alive and all right. He never checked his phone. Joe was the only person he was interested in communicating with. About a week after he arrived at Riverview, he received an e-mail from Amanda dated a couple days before.

She told him that she had gone to Seacouver to visit him and had seen Methos, who had been well on his way to killing himself by alcohol poisoning. She went on to explain that Methos had told her why Duncan left, but minced no words in telling him that he should have called her, and that Methos was terribly remorseful.

His first response had been annoyance with her for interfering; maybe more because she seemed to be as worried about Methos as she was about him. It felt like another betrayal, and on top of Methos’ betrayal, it was too much. To be fair, they were Methos’ friends too, and he’d left them to deal with his disappearance as best they could. If they leaned on each other, cared for each other, who was he to blame them?

Frankly, he didn’t feel like being fair. He told Amanda he was fine, but he needed time alone. He read her mails when she sent them, but didn’t respond or encourage her in any way. And every night he dreamt about Methos. The dream he had most often was the one where he arrived home at the loft to find Methos and Cameron in bed together. But the one that hurt the most, and left him aching for the rest of the day, was the one where he relived seeing Methos kissing Cameron in public.

~*~*~*~

 _September, 2004  
Seacouver_

The day after Amanda found Methos trying to drink himself to death, she decided to take him to see Joe. She wanted to hear for herself that they had no way of finding Duncan. Despite his immortality, Methos looked like hell. Amanda studied him while he drank a cup of coffee and picked at a piece of toast, and realized that it wasn’t the alcohol which made him look so poorly, but his anguish over Duncan’s departure. She knew that Duncan must be feeling equally as horrible.

Just as they reached the door to Joe’s, a young blond man accosted them. “Adam!” he called as he ran up to them. “Where have you been?” he asked worriedly.

“Look,” Amanda broke in, “Adam’s not up for company right now.” She tried to steer Methos around the other man.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know where else to reach you. You haven’t answered your cell.”

Methos choked off a laugh at the irony. “Cameron, I...”

“Cameron?” Amanda repeated, and moved towards the young man.

“Amanda, don’t.” Methos pulled her back. “He didn’t know.”

“We have an appointment.” Amanda allowed Methos to derail her, but refused to back down completely.

“I’ll be inside in a minute,” Methos said.

“Adam...”

“I have to do something right,” he said softly, his voice sad.

“All right,” Amanda reluctantly agreed, pressing her hand against his cheek, and then she pulled the door open and disappeared inside the bar.

“We need to talk,” Methos said, and led Cameron away from the front door. He sat on a bench and indicated that the other man should join him. After Cameron sat down, Methos said, “I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to hurt anyone. I know that’s not going to help.” He took a deep breath before continuing.

“I was involved with someone before we met. I lived with him. I was - am - in love with him. He found out about us, and he left me. I should have told you sooner,” Methos said, glancing at Cameron, “but I’ve been pretty busy feeling sorry for myself and trying to drink myself to death.”

“I thought you looked pretty bad,” Cameron said. “Why?” he asked.

“I thought he loved me too much,” Methos said, blinking back sudden tears. “Gods, I just can’t seem to stop crying.” He wiped his face.

“I knew you didn’t love me,” Cameron said sadly. “I thought maybe I could make you love me, but sometimes it felt like you weren’t always there when we were together. Don’t get me wrong,” he said at Methos’ puzzled look. “The company and the sex were always great, but sometimes you looked...I don’t know...far away, like you were thinking about something else.”

“Can someone love you too much?” Methos asked. “Can you lose yourself in them?”

“Yes, you can,” Cameron replied seriously. “It’s a form of emotional abuse. Did he try to keep you away from your friends?”

“No,” Methos said, shaking his head.

“Did he try to keep you from doing things you liked to do?”

“No.”

“Did he tell you how to think or feel?”

“No.”

“Why did you feel like you were getting lost?” Cameron asked.

“I’ve never been loved that powerfully,” Methos said. “He loved me with everything he was. I was afraid he wanted me to love him that completely, and that I wouldn’t be able to do it.”

“Don’t you think he thought you loved him just enough? That however much you loved him was just the right amount?” Cameron questioned.

Methos squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep the tears at bay. It was all for nothing. His stupid fears had no basis in fact, and he had lost Duncan for nothing.

~*~*~*~

After talking with an apologetic Joe, Amanda and Methos returned to the loft. Amanda used Methos’ laptop to access her e-mail account and send a message to Duncan. She stayed with Methos over the weekend. After Amanda left Seacouver, Methos closed up the loft, put the T-bird into storage, and moved into an apartment closer to Joe’s. He couldn’t stop thinking about Duncan; everything about Seacouver reminded him of the other man.

He thought about leaving Seacouver, but Joe was the closest friend he had, and he wanted to be there on the off chance that Duncan might come back. But he needed something to occupy his time, so Methos accepted a summer position at the University in their linguistic department’s graduate program. Because Joe got sick of Methos moping at his table in the back corner every night, he put him to work behind the bar.

He kept busy during the days and evenings, but he could do nothing about the memories that hit him late at night. He didn’t try to deny them, accepting them as the penalty he paid for hurting Duncan and driving him away. The memory he always played first was the now-bittersweet memory of the first time he and Duncan had kissed. It had been a warm spring night in Paris, and they were walking back to the barge after having spent a pleasant evening at Le Blues Bar.

Methos had been strolling along with his hands tucked in the front pockets of his jeans, his long coat swirling around his legs. They had stopped along the river, looking out over the moon-kissed water as Duncan made some comment about Methos’ approach to picking up a young woman at the bar. Methos had leaned his body towards Duncan so he could elbow the other man without removing his hands from his pockets.

Duncan had elbowed him back and Methos lost his balance, unable to remove his hands from his pockets quickly enough to catch himself. Duncan grabbed for him, snaring his coat and tugging him upright. Methos flailed, his hands finally finding purchase on Duncan’s shoulders, the added momentum bringing their bodies together.

Methos had caught his breath, more from the contact than the near fall, and felt his eyes glaze over. Duncan glanced down at his lips, and Methos groaned, his fingers tightening on Duncan’s shoulders. Duncan raised his eyes to Methos’, and then slowly leaned his head towards the other man. Methos, unable to take the suspense, moved towards Duncan and their lips touched.

They remained that way for a long moment, and then Duncan applied a gentle pressure and pulled Methos’ bottom lip between his own. Methos couldn’t stop the moan that issued from his throat, and his hands moved along Duncan’s shoulders and into his hair. Duncan pulled back and gazed into Methos’ eyes.

“Duncan?” Methos breathed, and Duncan kissed him again, his tongue seeking entry into Methos’ mouth. The kiss ended only when the need to breathe became paramount. Methos rested his forehead against Duncan’s shoulder.

“Methos,” Duncan said, his fingers tightening their hold on Methos’ coat. “Come back to the barge?”

“Yes,” Methos breathed, lifting his head so that his lips brushed Duncan’s neck. “Oh, yes.”

That wonderful memory was quickly followed by the awful memory of Duncan confronting him about Cameron. He knew that he had hurt the other man - had seen it in his eyes, his face; had heard it in his voice - but not until he found out that Duncan had left Seacouver did he realize that his actions had brought about the end of their relationship. That there would be no chance for him to apologize, to explain; no chance for a reconciliation.

The day Joe reluctantly informed him that he received a telephone call from Maurice wanting to confirm that Duncan had sold the barge and that he should no longer keep an eye on it, Methos had retreated to his table in the back corner and demolished two bottles of whiskey. Even the alcohol couldn’t dull the pain in his chest as he realized that Duncan was divesting himself of everything that reminded him of Methos.

Chapter Four

 _October 3, 2004  
Seacouver_

After the summer session was over, Methos had been offered a position as an adjunct professor for the fall term. He accepted, glad to have something to take his mind off Duncan’s absence, and their lives moved on as usual. Joe continued to hear from Duncan twice a week and let Methos know that the other Immortal was all right. Amanda called him every couple of weeks, or when she remembered, and Methos kept busy with his classes at the University and his stints behind the bar at Joe’s.

That all changed on October 3rd. Methos got a call at the University that Joe had been admitted to the hospital. Methos cancelled his class and raced to Seacouver Memorial Hospital where the doctor informed him that Joe was in the ICU. According to a witness, he’d had a dizzy spell and fallen, striking his head on the bar. He hadn’t regained consciousness, the doctor continued, and they feared he might fall into a coma. In addition, there was slight swelling of the brain. If it didn’t go down soon, there was a chance that they’d have to drill a hole in Joe’s skull to relieve the pressure on the brain.

Methos, who was listed as Joe’s next of kin, was allowed in to see him for five minutes. He held Joe’s hand and spoke to him, hoping that his touch or the sound of his voice would penetrate. When the nurse kicked him out he asked when he could see Joe again and was told that he’d be allowed in for five minutes every hour. He stepped outside the hospital, and pulled out his cell phone to call Amanda.

~*~*~*~

 _October 4, 2004  
Seacouver_

Methos picked Amanda up at the airport the next afternoon and drove her directly to the hospital. Joe still wasn’t awake, and Amanda took the next visit. When the five minutes were up, they walked down the street to a deli to grab something to eat before returning to the hospital for Methos’ visit.

After visiting hours ended, they went to Joe’s where Amanda sat at the bar while Methos helped behind it. After closing, having decided that Amanda would be staying with him while in town, Methos drove them to his apartment. He gave her the bed and took the couch. Methos had to teach his class at the University the next morning, so he dropped Amanda at the hospital to be with Joe.

After his class Methos joined Amanda at the hospital. They had a late lunch at the same deli, and then returned to the hospital. Bustling activity outside Joe’s room had Methos fearing the worst, until one of the nurses took pity on them and let them know that Joe had regained consciousness. As soon as the doctors were satisfied with Joe’s condition they allowed both Methos and Amanda to visit him for a few moments, and then told them that there would be no more visits for the rest of the evening so Joe could rest.

They retired to the bar for a celebratory drink. While they were there, Amanda’s phone rang. She checked the caller i.d. before answering it. “Well, it’s about time! Hold on,” she said, and then turned to Methos. “It’s Duncan. I e-mailed him about Joe. I’m going to take it in the office where I’ll be able to hear better. You want to come?” she offered.

“No.” Methos shook his head. “You go on.” Methos watched Amanda walk towards the office, his eyes narrowed, his lips pinched. Gods, what a ponce! He was jealous of Amanda because she was going to hear Duncan’s voice. He hadn’t heard the deep timbre of the other man’s voice in five months now, and he missed it terribly.

~*~*~*~

 _October 5, 2004  
Riverview B&B_

Duncan had spent the day raking the first of the leaves to fall from the many trees decorating the lawn of the Riverview Bed & Breakfast. When he retired to his apartment that evening he showered, and then turned on his laptop to check his messages and send his bi-weekly mail to Joe. The first thing he noted was that there was no message waiting for him from Joe. The second thing he noticed was that there was a message from Amanda. He hadn’t received a mail from her in a while, mainly because he still refused to respond to them.

The message was dated October 3, 2004 and the subject line read ‘Joe in hospital’. Duncan narrowed his eyes and opened the mail. ‘Methos called. Joe fell and hit his head. Still unconscious. I’m headed to Seacouver. Call my cell as soon as you get this message. A.’. Duncan wondered briefly if this was a ruse to get him to call, but unplugged his cell phone from the charger, turned it on for the first time in months, and dialed anyway.

“Well, it’s about time! Hold on,” Amanda answered the telephone abruptly. He heard laughter, the clink of glasses, and muffled conversation in the background.

“Amanda? Where are you?” he asked when she came back on the line.

“At Joe’s,” she said, and then the sound was cut off. Duncan assumed she had gone into Joe’s office and closed the door.

“What are you doing at Joe’s?” he asked.

“Helping out!” Amanda replied tartly. After an extended silence, she amended, “Well, all right, watching Methos help out.”

“How’s Joe?” Duncan asked, wanting to change the subject from the mention of Methos’ name.

“Oh, God, Duncan!” Amanda nearly wailed in her relief. “He just woke up today. He’s been unconscious for two days. The doctor was concerned that he might fall into a coma, and there was discussion of drilling a hole in his skull to reduce pressure because his brain was swollen!”

“What happened to him?” Duncan asked.

“Paul, the bartender, said Joe seemed to get dizzy, and then he fell and hit his head on the bar,” Amanda said, explaining what they knew.

“But he’s all right now?” Duncan asked worriedly.

“We only got to see him for five minutes after he woke up,” Amanda said. “The doctor said they were going to run more tests tomorrow, and of course they’ll know more when Joe can tell them what happened.”

There was a moment of silence. “Are you going to come see him?” Amanda asked.

“I don’t know, Amanda...,” Duncan replied.

“Dammit, Duncan!” Amanda interrupted. “He’s your friend! I thought your friends were important to you?” she charged angrily.

“They are!” Duncan hissed. “I just... I’m not ready to see Methos again, Amanda.”

“If you come here, that can’t be helped,” Amanda said matter-of-factly, “but it’s not like you’d have to spend any time with him, if you don’t want to.”

“Of course, I don’t want to!” Duncan quickly responded.

“Joe could have died. Can you spare him a couple of days of your immortal life?” Amanda expertly played the guilt card.

Duncan sighed resignedly and gave in. “I’ll check flights and call you as soon as I know when I’ll be arriving.”

“Okay,” Amanda agreed happily. “Hurry.” She cut the connection and did a little hop and skip. It was terrible that Joe had been injured, but this was the perfect opportunity. Duncan wasn’t going to sneak away again. This time when he left Seacouver, they’d know exactly where he went.

~*~*~*~

Duncan called the airport for flight information. He purchased a round-trip ticket, and then called the Seacouver Hilton to make reservations. He threw a couple changes of clothes into his duffel, and then called Amanda to let her know when he’d arrive in Seacouver. He declined her offer to pick him up at the airport and immediately called to rent a car. Then he walked back over to the main house to tell Jessie that he would be gone for a couple days.

Jessie was stirring up a coffee cake for the next morning when Duncan arrived in the kitchen. “Ian, I thought you were in for the night,” Jessie greeted him as he walked through the door.

“I was,” Duncan said, “but I just found out that a friend of mine was admitted to the hospital a couple days ago. I need to go see him. I hate to leave you and Nicole, but...”

“Here.” Jessie poured a cup of coffee and placed it on the table. “Sit. Tell me about it.”

Duncan sat. He pulled the cup into his hands and held it, but didn’t drink. “I don’t know that much,” he said, with a glance at Jessie. “He fell; hit his head. He was unconscious for two days. I didn’t check my mail until tonight.” He looked up at Jessie guiltily. “He woke up today, but I guess there’s still some concern about his brain swelling and whether they’ll have to drill a hole in his skull to relieve the pressure.”

“What’s wrong?” Jessie asked, as she covered the bowl of batter and placed it in the refrigerator.

“What do you mean?” Duncan asked.

Jessie sat down at the table across from him. “You are concerned for your friend,” she said, studying him. “But there’s something else bothering you.”

“There’s nothing...”

“You don’t need to tell me,” Jessie said, and held up her hand to quiet him, “but it might help to talk about it.”

“I’m just not looking forward to going home,” he admitted.

“Why?” she asked.

“When I left...,” Duncan hesitated. “I never intended to return.”

“What were you running from?” Jessie asked.

Duncan just stared at the dark liquid in his cup. “What does anyone ever run from?” he asked.

“A broken heart?” Jessie guessed.

Duncan snorted. “Not very original, is it?”

“But very personal when it happens to you,” Jessie said. When Duncan didn’t respond, she asked, “Will this person who broke your heart be there?”

“Yes,” Duncan said softly. “Joe is... Joe is a mutual friend.”

“So to see your friend, Joe, you must also see the person who broke your heart?” Jessie sympathized.

“Yes.” Duncan squeezed his lips together.

“When you left, were you concerned that they might try and find you?” Jessie asked.

“Yes. Why do you ask?” Duncan asked.

“What’s your real name?” Jessie asked, instead of answering his question.

Duncan just stared at her. She knew he was using an assumed name. No, she couldn’t know. She was guessing. But why?

Jessie took pity on him. “Sometimes,” she said, “when I would call you, I would have to repeat your name several times before you realized I was talking to you. It was as if you expected someone else to answer me.”

Duncan shook his head. This assuming new identities wasn’t as easy as you’d think. “I changed my name so they couldn’t find me,” he admitted.

“Can you tell me your real name?” Jessie asked. “I mean, you’re not in trouble, are you?”

“No.” Duncan gave a small smile. “My real name is Duncan. Duncan MacLeod.”

“Duncan,” Jessie repeated. “A very strong name. Who’s Ian?”

“Ian was my father’s name,” Duncan said.

“Duncan,” Jessie said, leaning forward and placing her hand over his, “may God grant you the strength you need to get through this trial.”

Duncan smiled. “Thank you, Jessie.”

~*~*~*~

 _October 6, 2004  
Seacouver_

Duncan pulled out into traffic and headed for Seacouver Memorial Hospital. He’d driven to the airport that morning for the flight to Seacouver and had fallen asleep on the plane, having gotten very little sleep the night before. After leaving Jessie in the kitchen he’d gone to bed, but had been unable to fall asleep; thoughts of Methos filled his head as they did most nights when he closed his eyes.

He remembered a night spent at Le Blues Bar, before they had told Joe or any of their friends about the strange twist their relationship had taken. Their first kiss had been unplanned and unforeseen, but had led to one of the most physically and emotionally satisfying experiences of his long life. After that night, which Duncan had thought of as a pivotal moment in his life, he and Methos had been together almost every night.

Each moment in the other man’s company had only made Duncan want him more, and sitting beside him that particular night while Joe’s band played was pure torture. He ached to reach out and touch him. As if reading his mind, Methos had slouched down further in his chair and let his legs sprawl wider, until his thigh was pressing against Duncan’s.

Whenever Methos spoke to him for the rest of the night, he had used the excuse of the loud music to lean close to Duncan and let his breath feather over the other man’s face. After several hours of Methos’ teasing, the older Immortal had leaned over to ask Duncan if he was ready to leave. Methos’ breath had tickled his neck, and then he had bitten Duncan’s ear. Duncan had jumped up from the table, startling Joe and causing Methos to smirk at him.

Duncan had thrown Methos up against the wall as soon as they entered the barge, kissing him breathless as he tore at the other man’s coat. Methos had been eager and willing, compliantly placing himself into the hands of the man he’d spent the better part of the evening winding up. Duncan had practically ripped their clothing off, and then pressed their groins together. Their hips rocked; their cocks sliding against one another until they both came, spattering their chests and stomachs with hot, sticky fluid.

Duncan had covered his fingers with the semen coating his abdomen, and then reached between Methos’ thighs to slide a teasing finger between his buttocks. Methos had groaned and grabbed Duncan’s shoulders for support as his legs nearly gave out. Duncan had laughed at seeing the older Immortal as overcome as he had felt all night.

In a quick move, Duncan scooped the thick cream off Methos’ chest and twirled him around, pressing him against the wall. He used his chest to hold Methos in place, spreading his buttocks with one hand and placing the fingers of the other against him. Duncan sucked on Methos’ neck as he slid one finger inside him, gently twisting it to coat the inside of Methos’ passage with the slippery substance.

He nibbled on Methos’ ear as he withdrew the finger, replacing it with two. Methos writhed beneath Duncan’s touch, pushing back onto the fingers inside him, and then moving forward to rub his hardening cock against the wall, his actions inflaming the younger Immortal’s passion. Duncan turned Methos’ head so that he could touch his lips, kissing him as he reached with his fingers, twisting them to brush the sensitive spot inside his lover.

Methos groaned into Duncan’s mouth. Feeling his own cock harden even more in response, Duncan slid in a third finger, alternately stretching Methos and reaching for his prostate, until Methos was begging Duncan to fuck him. Duncan gently removed his fingers and coated his flesh with the remaining fluid. He spread the other man’s buttocks, placed the head of his penis against Methos’ hole, and then pressed.

The head of his cock breached the ring of muscle, and Methos cried out, arching his back. Before Duncan could react, Methos had pressed back and down, impaling himself on Duncan’s cock. Duncan grabbed Methos’ hips to still him, and bit down on his shoulder. Methos curled his fingers against the wall. “Please, Duncan,” he had pleaded, and Duncan had obliged, pulling back and then thrusting in.

Duncan tilted his hips, changing his angle of entry until he found the nub he was searching for. Methos wailed as Duncan slammed into his pleasure spot again, and again. Duncan dug his fingers into Methos’ hips as he rammed into the other man; his lips against Methos’ ear, telling him that this was his punishment for teasing Duncan all night, as he licked and sucked on the lobe. And then Methos came, his semen splattering the wall, his internal muscles clenching around Duncan and pulling the younger man’s orgasm from him.

The next day was the first time Duncan had reached for Methos’ hand in public, and Methos had pulled away. When Duncan finally confronted Methos about his reaction, the older Immortal had said that their relationship was private. Duncan hadn’t said anything, though he hadn’t understood. He was in love, and he wanted everyone to know it.

That memory was followed by the image of Methos and Cameron holding hands, and tears filled his eyes. His heart ached as he replayed the image of Methos kissing Cameron - in public. He had loved Methos with everything he was, and Methos had been ashamed of them; had wanted to keep them a secret. But it seemed he wanted everyone to know about Cameron.

~*~*~*~

When Duncan reached the hospital, he went directly to the ICU. He felt the buzz of Immortal presence and found Amanda in the waiting area. She flew into his arms and he hugged her tightly. “How’s Joe?” he asked.

“He looks a lot better today,” Amanda replied. “I’m so glad you’re here, Duncan.”

“When can I see him?” Duncan asked.

“The next visitation is in five minutes. Methos just went to the bathroom...”

“Is Joe’s doctor around?” Duncan interrupted.

“No. He was here this morning. You can see him tomorrow morning, if you want. Where are you staying?” Amanda asked.

“I have a reservation at the Hilton,” Duncan said, just as he sensed a second wave of Immortal presence.

“You don’t need to stay at a hotel,” Methos said from behind him. “You could stay at the loft.” He had been in the bathroom with dry heaves; the thought of seeing Duncan again terrifying. The sound of his voice had echoed down the hallway before he’d felt the brush of his distinctive presence, and Methos had steeled himself to greet the other man. Duncan turned to look at him now; eyes that once shone with love and desire were empty.

“Methos,” Duncan greeted him coolly. He tried to keep his voice even, his face blank. “I don’t think I’d be comfortable at the loft,” he said. “Three’s a crowd, don’t you think? How is Cameron?” he asked.

Without waiting for an answer, Duncan turned to Amanda. “Which room is Joe’s?”

“527,” Amanda replied.

“I’d like to see him, if you don’t mind,” Duncan said, turning on his heels and striding out of the waiting room without sparing a glance for Methos. Duncan managed to clear the door before his shoulders slumped. He leaned against the wall for a moment to catch his breath, wondering if anyone else heard the sound of his heart breaking a second time.

Methos watched Duncan leave the room, and then closed his eyes against the pain, as a fist closed around his heart and squeezed.

“Methos?” Amanda called his name softly. “Methos, are you all right?”

“Fine,” Methos lied. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine...”

“When you see Joe, tell him I went to the bar,” Methos interrupted.

“Methos...”

“Not now, Amanda,” Methos said gruffly, and then followed Duncan’s path out of the waiting room. He stumbled to the elevators without noticing his surroundings, and pressed the down button. When the car arrived, he stepped inside and pressed himself into the corner.

Chapter Five

 _October 6, 2004  
Seacouver_

Joe was sleeping when Duncan sat down beside him. He didn’t speak, just looked at his friend. He was pale. There was a bandage on his head and an I.V. tube attached to his arm. Duncan rubbed his hand over his face as if he could wash away the pain and sorrow of the past five months. He knew that Joe was mortal, and therefore fragile, but he’d never really thought about the fact that he’d lose him one day. Perhaps he had purposely refused to think about it.

He reached out and softly touched the back of Joe’s hand with his fingertips. “Hey, buddy,” Joe croaked, and Duncan jumped.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said apologetically.

“Can’t get much sleep in a place like this. Makes you wonder why they keep you in the hospital so you can get some rest,” Joe said, and then started coughing.

“Are you all right?” Duncan asked worriedly.

“Yeah, just dry,” Joe said between coughs. “Water?” He pointed weakly towards the cup on the table. Duncan picked up the cup and held the straw so Joe could drink.

“So,” Joe said. “They found you.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner,” Duncan said guiltily. “I just got Amanda’s message last night.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Joe waved his concern away. “They tell me I wasn’t here, either.” He laughed, and started coughing again.

“Maybe you shouldn’t talk,” Duncan said as he looked on helplessly.

Joe laughed again. “You wish. So, are you staying long?”

“No,” Duncan replied sorrowfully. “A couple days. I have to get back.”

“Can you tell me where?” Joe asked. “Or what you’re doing?”

Duncan hesitated. “I’ve been working as a handyman at a Bed & Breakfast owned by a lovely woman named...Jessie. Jessie has a granddaughter, Nicole, who lives there with her. Nicole just started school this year...” Duncan told Joe as much as he could in five minutes about his life in Nebraska without giving away his whereabouts.

~*~*~*~

When the nurse came to tell him that his time was up, Duncan turned to Joe. “I’ll be back,” he promised.

“I know, Mac.” Joe managed a wan smile, and then asked the question he really wanted answered. “Have you seen, uh, Adam?”

Duncan froze. “Yeah,” he said, and then left.

Joe shook his head. Damn fools, both of them.

~*~*~*~

Amanda and Duncan took turns visiting Joe for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Between visits Amanda took Duncan to the deli she and Methos had been frequenting to get something to eat.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

“Fine,” he replied.

“No, really,” she pushed.

“I’m fine, Amanda. Really.”

“Well, Methos isn’t,” she said.

“I don’t want to talk about Methos,” Duncan replied, picking up the menu and ignoring her.

“He misses you.” Amanda leaned over the table and whispered.

“When I left Seacouver, I had no intention of ever coming back here. I’m only here now to see Joe. Methos is out of my life and I want to keep it that way. I do not want to see him, and I do not want to talk about him. Now, drop it.” Duncan leaned back in his seat and stared at Amanda.

“You can’t mean it...,” Amanda spoke softly.

Duncan’s lips curled at the corners. “But I do.” He picked up the menu he’d dropped and glanced over it. When the waitress came he ordered coffee and the soup and sandwich combo. Amanda ordered a salad and a glass of ice water with lemon.

“Will you ever let us know where you are?” she asked plaintively after the waitress left their table.

“I don’t know,” Duncan said truthfully. “It’s awfully peaceful there. Haven’t been challenged once since I left Seacouver.”

“Holy ground?” Amanda asked.

Duncan smiled, thinking of Nicole’s big blue eyes. “Sometimes it feels that way,” he said.

~*~*~*~

When visiting hours were over Duncan offered to drive Amanda home. She told him that she was staying with Methos. Duncan didn’t respond, just pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards the loft.

“Where are you going?” Amanda asked.

“The loft,” Duncan replied shortly.

“Oh! I forgot you didn’t know. Methos doesn’t live at the loft anymore,” she replied airily, watching for Duncan’s response. She wasn’t disappointed.

Duncan’s body jerked at her words, and she felt lucky that he managed to keep his hands mostly steady on the wheel. “With Cameron, then?” he asked.

“What?” Amanda asked, playing dumb.

“Is he living with Cameron? Is that where I need to drop you?” She could see Duncan grinding his teeth together.

“What are you talking about?” Amanda asked. Yep, Duncan still cared! “He moved out of the loft a couple weeks after you left. When it became apparent that you weren’t coming back. He got an apartment closer to Joe’s.”

~*~*~*~

Duncan drove Amanda to Methos’ new apartment and watched to make sure she got inside all right. He had refused her invitation into the apartment; he didn’t want to see where Methos was living now. He pulled out into traffic and drove around Seacouver, eventually finding himself outside the loft. The place was dark, except for the soft glow of light from one of the loft windows.

He got out of his rented car and stood on the sidewalk looking up at the window. Memories he’d suppressed rose to the surface, refusing to be denied any longer, and slammed into him. Methos’ promising smile as he pulled his sweater off and suggested they break-in the bed their first day back in Seacouver; Methos standing at the stove in just a pair of tight-fitting jeans, singing as he cooked; Methos pushing him back against the counter and dropping to his knees, nuzzling his groin as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, and then taking him into his mouth; Methos naked and dripping wet after a shower; Methos grinning at him after he’d managed to get a rise out of him; Methos lying to him; Methos admitting he was sleeping with another man...

Duncan staggered at the pain of the memories. He moved closer to the building and the rush of Immortal presence washed over him. He had to close his eyes, gasping to catch his breath as he recognized Methos. He turned to leave, and then decided that he wouldn’t run away. If he had sensed Methos, the other Immortal had surely sensed him. He walked slowly up the exterior steps and tried the knob. The door was unlocked, and he pushed it open.

The lamp on the desk was the only illumination; the rest of the room was cast in shadow. Methos was standing by the window looking down at the street, and Duncan wondered if he had been watching him.

“Change your mind?” Methos asked.

“About what?” Duncan asked shortly.

“About staying at the loft,” Methos replied.

“No.” Duncan looked around. Nothing had changed. “I just wanted to see this place once more.” He stared at the couch where they had been sitting when he confronted Methos about Cameron. “And now I have,” he said, and turned to leave.

Methos watched him walk towards the door, saying nothing to try and stop him.

“Why?” Duncan asked, his hand shaking on the doorknob. He just wanted to leave, and didn’t really want to know the answer to the question, but hadn’t been able to stop his mouth from asking it.

“Does it matter?” Methos asked.

Duncan felt a disorienting wave of deja vu as he remembered their last conversation in the loft. ‘Are you in love with him?’ he had asked Methos. ‘Does it matter?’ Methos had replied. He laughed, a deep, bitter sound, and pulled the door open and left.

~*~*~*~

Methos had seen Duncan’s arrival; had watched as the other man studied the building and wondered what thoughts were passing through his head. Did he remember their first Christmas together in this loft? Was he thinking about their first anniversary? Or was he remembering that last day? Was that what he would think about first, now, whenever he thought about them, the way they had ended?

He watched Duncan cross the street, get into his rental, and pull away without a backward glance. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling his hope die. If Duncan had told him that it mattered, the reason why Methos had cheated on him, he would have told him everything, and begged for understanding, forgiveness, a second chance. He would have promised anything.

But his reasons didn’t matter. That he had done it was the only thing that mattered to the stubborn, moralistic Scot. Not why. And he had damned himself to spending the rest of his Immortal life without Duncan. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the window and let the tears flow. His body shuddering with the sobs, he slid down the wall.

Several hours later Amanda found him curled up on the floor asleep, his body still shaking, and took him home.

~*~*~*~

 _October 7, 2004  
Seacouver_

Duncan arrived at the hospital the next morning and was told that Joe had been moved to a private room. He sensed presence as he walked down the hall towards Joe’s new room and steeled himself to see Methos. He stepped into the doorway and surveyed the room. Joe was sitting up in the bed while Methos held his wrist and took his pulse.

“I already have a doctor. And a dozen nurses.” Joe was grumbling at Methos, his voice testy, but Methos just smiled and continued to check his watch.

Amanda was in the corner, speaking with a middle-aged man with a shock of red hair. Neither Immortal looked up when they felt his arrival, or acknowledged his presence in any way. He entered the room and Amanda looked up as if noticing him for the first time.

“Duncan!” she greeted him. “This is Joe’s doctor, Dr. Fred Hicks. Dr. Hicks, Duncan MacLeod, a friend of Joe’s.”

“Dr. Hicks.” Duncan extended his hand politely. “I hope you understand when I say it’s not a pleasure to meet you under these circumstances.”

“I understand completely, Mr. MacLeod,” Dr. Hicks said with a smile.

“How’s Joe doing?” Duncan asked.

“Yes, what’s the verdict?” Methos chimed in. “Is he gonna live?”

“I am right here, you know! You don’t need to talk about me as if I weren’t here,” Joe groused.

“Joe, may I discuss your diagnosis with your friends?” Dr. Hicks asked.

“Might as well. They’d only beat the confession out of me later, anyway,” Joe agreed less than gracefully.

“We were able to move Joe out of the ICU because, once he regained consciousness, the swelling in his brain decreased...”

“Is that normal?” Methos asked.

“Not the speed of it, no,” Dr. Hicks said. “We can’t explain it. His head wound is healing nicely. Now we just need to make sure he eats and takes care of himself. Based on the blood tests run when he was admitted, his blood sugar was low, which is what caused his dizzy spell.”

“Joseph!” Amanda admonished. “Not taking care of yourself? Do I have to move in?” she threatened.

Joe looked her over. “Yes,” he replied saucily.

“Feeling better, I see,” Duncan drawled, as Amanda laughed happily.

“We’re going to take some more blood today,” Dr. Hicks continued, “and if Joe’s sugar levels are normal, he can go home tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” Duncan asked in disbelief. “He was just unconscious two days ago!”

“The body’s ability to heal is an amazing thing,” Dr. Hicks replied. “Joe will be back to his old self in no time.”

“Great,” Methos complained with a roll of his eyes.

“Watch it,” Joe shook his finger at the oldest Immortal, “or I won’t let you play behind my bar anymore!”

“Can I have my table back, then?” Methos asked.

“And I’ll make you pay your tab!” Joe added.

“All right, all right, I’ll be good,” Methos agreed, shaking in mock fear at the threat.

Joe just snorted. “I’ll believe that the day I see it.”

After the doctor left, Methos took his leave as well. “I’ll leave you with Amanda and MacLeod,” he said. “I’ve got to get back to the bar for a delivery, and then I have class. I’ll be back later this afternoon, before heading over to the bar,” he said, giving Duncan plenty of warning of his plans.

“All right,” Joe said, and then grabbed Methos’ hand. “Thanks, Old Man,” he said.

“You’re welcome, Joe.” Methos squeezed Joe’s hand, gave Amanda a kiss goodbye, and left.

~*~*~*~

 _October 8, 2004  
Seacouver_

They took Joe home the next day. He rode with Methos; Amanda and Duncan followed in the rental car. Methos again left Amanda and Duncan alone to spend time with Joe. He knew that Joe missed the young Immortal, and reasoned that he’d be able to spend time with him after Amanda and Duncan left. He stayed downstairs in the bar; helping mix drinks and clear tables when things got busy, and sitting at his table grading papers when things slowed down.

Later that evening, Methos went up to Joe’s apartment to check on him. He was in time to overhear Duncan saying goodbye.

“I’m glad you’re all right, Joe,” he was saying. “But I need to get back.”

“I know, I know,” Joe said. “To Jessie and Nicole.”

Methos felt his chest tighten. Jessie and Nicole. Had Duncan found comfort elsewhere, with two nubile young women, someone female to make him forget about the aberration that they were?

Methos tuned back in to the conversation in time to hear Duncan say, “I’ll be...leaving in the morning.”

Methos watched silently as Duncan put his coat on, and then gave Joe and Amanda hugs and whispered goodbyes. Duncan walked past him as he headed towards the door. Methos found he couldn’t let him go without saying anything.

“Duncan,” he softly spoke the other man’s name.

Duncan paused at the door, looked back over his shoulder at Methos, and then left without a word. Methos swallowed hard, refusing to cry in front of Joe and Amanda. Again.

“Methos, are you all right?” Joe asked.

“I’m fine,” Methos lied. “Excuse me.” He moved to the other side of the room where he had a modicum of privacy, and pulled out his telephone. When the line was picked up at the other end, he said, “He’s on the move,” and then hung up.

“Can I borrow your car?” Amanda asked, when Methos rejoined them.

“Not if you’re going to go begging to MacLeod on my behalf,” Methos replied acerbically.

“Of course not!” Amanda made a face. “I’m going to beg on my behalf.”

“In that case,” Methos said, pulling out the keys and handing them to her, “break a leg.”

~*~*~*~

Duncan called the airport as he drove back to the hotel, and booked a seat on the first flight out of Seacouver that night. He wanted to get home to Riverview. Home; weird how he no longer thought of Seacouver as home. Once it had been home because he’d spent so many years with Tessa there; then anywhere Methos was had been home. Now he needed to get out of Seacouver before the memories, good and bad, overwhelmed him. And he wanted to be on a plane before Amanda realized he’d already left. He was certain she wouldn’t let him go without trying to find out where he went.

When he got to his room he called Jessie to tell her that he’d be back the next day. Nicole answered the telephone. “Hello, Nicole, love,” he greeted her.

“Ian!” she screamed in his ear. “When are you coming home?” she pleaded.

Tears filled his eyes. God, he was such an emotional wreck! “I’ll be home tomorrow morning,” he said.

“Really?” she squealed delightedly.

“Really.” He smiled at her reaction. There was nothing like the innocent love of a child to make you feel warm all over.

“Will you take me for ice cream?” she asked hopefully.

“Isn’t it too cold for ice cream?” he asked, giving her a hard time as she expected him to.

“It’s never too cold for ice cream,” she informed him archly, in her five-year old voice.

“We’ll have to see how much work your Grandma has for me to do when I get back,” he said. “May I speak with her?”

“Sure! I love you, Ian,” Nicole said, and then Duncan heard her drop the phone and yell, “Grandma! Ian’s on the phone. He’s coming home tomorrow!”

Duncan heard the scrape of the phone as it was picked up off the desk. “Ian?” Jessie said.

“Hi, Jessie,” Duncan said. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Ian. And you?” she asked.

“I’m all right,” Duncan lied poorly. “I’m coming home tomorrow.”

“Yes, I heard,” Jessie said, and Duncan could hear the smile in her voice. “Now I’ll never get her to sleep!”

“Sorry,” Duncan apologized, picturing Nicole running around the house like a little blonde tornado. “So, how is everything? Nothing break down while I’ve been gone?”

“Everything’s been good. We’ve missed you, though,” Jessie said.

“I’ve missed both of you, too,” Duncan said, just as a knock sounded at the door. “Someone’s at the door, Jessie, can you hold on a minute?”

“Of course, Ian,” Jessie replied.

Duncan held the phone at his side and went to the door. He pulled it open and saw Amanda standing there. He sighed, knowing there was no way he was getting rid of her before she had her say, but not being able to resist trying.

“What do you want Amanda?” he asked, not letting her in.

“We need to talk,” she said with an innocent smile that didn’t quite play right.

“No. We don’t,” Duncan said.

“Duncan, you can’t just leave without...”

“I have someone on the telephone,” Duncan interrupted her. “Go away, Amanda.” He swung the door shut and lifted his cell to his ear, returning to his conversation with Jessie.

Amanda caught the door before it latched, pushed it open, and stepped inside the hotel room.

“Sorry, Jessie,” Duncan said into the receiver, shooting Amanda a frown.

“That’s all right, Ian. You have company?”

“You could say that,” Duncan replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? And tell Nicole she’ll need plenty of rest for when I get back,” he offered.

Jessie laughed. “I’ll tell her. She’ll do anything for you, Ian.”

“Hah!” Duncan barked. “Until she’s sixteen. I’ve been talking with Clara!”

Jessie laughed again. “Belle’s a good girl,” she insisted.

“Right,” Duncan said. “Until she got breasts and started dating! Think we can keep Nicole locked up?”

“Goodnight, Ian,” Jessie said, laughing some more. “We really have missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too. Goodnight, Jessie,” Duncan said. He pressed the ‘off’ button, and stared at the phone.

“Who are Jessie and Nicole?” Amanda asked.

“Friends,” Duncan replied, sliding the phone into his pocket and turning to face Amanda. “If you’re here to talk about Methos, don’t,” he said.

“Duncan.” Amanda’s voice was pleading.

“One,” he held up a finger, “my relationship with Methos is none of your business. Two, I don’t have a relationship with Methos, and that is also none of your business.”

“Duncan! Stop being such an ass!” Amanda cried. “He loves you, dammit! I know he screwed up, he knows he screwed up, Joe knows, hell, the whole world probably knows! And I know you love him, too, because I know you. You don’t stop loving someone you cared about that much. Some people might be able to, but I know you couldn’t. Please, Duncan, just give him another chance.”

She waited for Duncan to respond, and when he didn’t, continued, “At least talk to him. You were friends, once...”

“Do you honestly think I can go back to being ‘just friends’ with Methos?” Duncan stared at her in disbelief. “He was...everything to me. Everything,” his voice broke.

“Yes, and that scared him,” Amanda said gently, trying to explain.

“And the appropriate response was to sleep with someone else?” Duncan asked.

“I didn’t say he reacted appropriately. He was scared; he just reacted,” she said, reaching for Duncan’s arm.

Duncan pulled away from her. “Well, he doesn’t have to be afraid anymore,” he said. “Goodbye, Amanda, it was lovely seeing you.” He strode over to the door and pulled it open, and then stared at Amanda without speaking until she walked towards the doorway.

“Please don’t be a stranger, Duncan,” she said, reaching up to place a kiss on his cheek, and then stepping through the door. Duncan felt her standing in the hallway for a moment before she left.

As soon as Amanda’s presence receded, Duncan threw the rest of his clothes into his duffel bag, packed his sword, and then went downstairs to check out. He drove to the airport and turned his car in, and then waited in the lounge for his flight to be called. He couldn’t wait to get out of Seacouver.

~*~*~*~

Several hours after Duncan had left Joe’s apartment and Methos placed his telephone call, his cell rang. Methos stepped into Joe’s office and answered it.

“Yes?”

“He got on flight 321 for Nebraska,” the voice on the other end of the phone said.

“You’re sure he got on the plane?” Methos asked. He listened carefully, and then ended the call, a frown of confusion on his face.

“Nebraska?” he asked aloud. “What in hell is he doing in Nebraska?”

Chapter Six

 _October 20, 2004  
Riverview B&B_

About a week after Duncan returned from Seacouver, he came upon Jessie sitting at the kitchen table. She was pale, her breaths shallow. She didn’t hear him come in, and Duncan spoke her name softly so as not to startle her. When she finally looked up at him, he reached out and took her hand in his. It was cold, clammy.

“What’s wrong, Jessie?” he asked worriedly.

She pinned a letter with the fingers of her free hand and slid the paper across the table to Duncan. He picked it up and read it.

> Dear Miss Jessie,
> 
> I have received early parole due to good behavior. I will be coming home next week and would like to see Nicole.
> 
> Tom Zeille

“I don’t understand,” Duncan said.

“Nicole’s father,” Jessie said, her voice hoarse.

“He wants to see her,” Duncan said.

“I don’t want him anywhere near her!” Jessie rasped fearfully, her hands scrabbling at Duncan’s arms. “He’s not a nice man, Ian,” she said.

“Tell me,” Duncan said. “But first, let me make you some hot chocolate.”

Duncan made hot chocolate while Jessie sat at the kitchen table, fingering the innocuous-seeming letter. Duncan set the mugs on the table, and sat in the chair beside Jessie so he could hold her hand.

“My daughter,” Jessie started her story, “Roselyn, was a beautiful girl, and very smart. Nicole looks a lot like her. She loved it here, but she earned a scholarship, and went off to school in Lincoln. She met Tom Zeille, and he was all she could think about. She talked about that boy all the time. She brought him home once; she was so in love. He hated it here; thought we were all backward. I thought he was trouble, but Roselyn saw something in him.”

Jessie paused to stir her hot chocolate and take a sip. “She got pregnant,” Jessie said, “and came home with her tail between her legs. She thought I’d tell her ‘I told you so’. When Tom found out she was pregnant, he told her to get rid of it. A child would get in the way of his fun, you see,” Jessie said, shaking her head.

“Rose told him she wanted to keep the baby. He hit her; she left him, and came home. After Nicole was born, Tom came around; tried to convince Rose to leave the baby here and take off with him. She refused. He got angry. I was afraid he was going to hit her again, but he left. Next thing I knew, he was back. I didn’t realize, but he’d hung around town, found out Rose had some money in trust. He came back, begged her again to come away with him; told her she could bring Nicole with her.”

Jessie’s eyes began to burn as tears built up behind them. “Rose told him she didn’t want to leave Riverview. She was going to raise Nicole here. Tom became enraged. Next thing I knew, he had a gun in his hand. He said he’d kill Nicole if Rose didn’t leave with him. She begged him to leave her and Nicole alone. He pointed the gun at Nicole and Rose jumped him. The gun went off. He shot her.” Jessie’s voice broke.

“Take your time.” Duncan took Jessie’s hand in his and put his arm around her shaking shoulders, holding her as she cried in memory of her daughter.

“I’m sorry, Ian. I thought I was over this.” Jessie sniffled, slipping out of Duncan’s arm to get a tissue.

“You never get over loss,” Duncan said. “You just learn to live with it.”

“There was blood everywhere,” she continued as she sat back down. “I called the ambulance, but she was dead before they got here. The police picked Tom up easily. Turns out he’d been drinking, and he wrapped his car around a tree just down the road after he shot Rose and ran.”

“He was fine, of course,” Jessie said, shaking her head in disgust. “They charged him with murder, attempted murder, endangerment, anything they could think of, but he put on quite a performance, dressed up nice and acted real regretful; blamed it all on the alcohol. They let him plead to a lesser charge, and sentenced him to 15 years. And now he’s out on parole.” Jessie waved her hand at the letter on the table in disgust.

“I didn’t even know he was coming up for parole,” she said. “Don’t they have to let me know so I can have my say?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Duncan said. “Why don’t we see if we can confirm what Tom tells you in his letter?” he suggested.

Jessie agreed, and Duncan called the District Attorney’s Office. He spoke with an ADA by the name of Jennifer Clark. Ms. Clark told him that she’d look into it and call him back. Duncan hung up the telephone. While Duncan was on the phone charming the ADA, Jessie started the salad for their supper.

“I don’t want that man anywhere near Nicole,” Jessie said, turning away from the counter and brandishing the knife she’d been using to chop the vegetables for the salad.

“He’s her father,” Duncan said. “Can you legally keep him from seeing her?”

“After he was convicted I got sole custody of Nicole,” Jessie said. “I hoped he’d never come back. I should have known the draw of Nicole’s inheritance would be too much for him to resist.”

“Do you have your custody papers handy?” he asked. “We could look at them and see whether Tom has any right to see Nicole.”

“Yes,” Jessie said, nodding. “I should have thought of that, but reading that letter just...got me so flustered. Here.” She handed him the wooden spoon she’d traded the knife for. “Stir the sauce. I’ll go get the papers.”

A bemused Duncan took the spoon, watching Jessie bustle out of the kitchen. Luckily there weren’t any guests at the Bed & Breakfast - the busiest part of the season was over - or they’d have been neglected with Jessie’s distraction. He stirred the tomato sauce that had been simmering on the stove, and spooned some up. He blew on it to cool it, and then tasted it, silently moaning his approval.

When Jessie returned she handed the packet of papers to Duncan. “You look at these,” she told him. “I’m too nervous to sit still and make sense of it all.”

Duncan set the spoon on the trivet, wiped his hands, and then sat down at the table. He went through the pile of papers, examining each one intently until he found the custody decree. He read it with careful attention to detail. When he was done, he glanced up at Jessie.

“It doesn’t look like he has any right to see, Nicole,” he said. “But perhaps you should call your attorney, just to make sure,” he suggested.

“Well, that’s good news,” Jessie said, managing a sickly smile. “I will call Michael, just to put my mind at ease,” Jessie agreed. She plucked the receiver off the telephone hanging on the kitchen wall and carried it over to the table. “His number must be on one of his letters.” She shifted through the papers until she found the number.

Duncan watched as Jessie dialed the telephone and calmly asked to speak to Michael Westmore, telling the receptionist who was calling. Moments later she began to speak, and then became choked up, and handed the telephone to Duncan.

“Uh, Mr. Westmore,” Duncan said, glancing at the letterhead to make sure he had the name correct, “my name is Ian Richards. I’m a friend of Jessica Wright. She’s had a bit of a shock... No, she’s all right, just a bit...overwrought,” Duncan assured the other man. “May I explain the situation for her?”

Duncan explained about Tom Zeille’s parole and the letter he had sent to Jessie asking to see Nicole, and Jessie’s wish that Nicole not see her father. Michael Westmore told Duncan that, if his recollection served, Jessie had received full custody, and Tom Zeille had no parental rights whatsoever, including visitation, but offered to pull the file and review the final papers.

Duncan thanked him, gave him Jessie’s telephone number, and hung up. By then, Jessie had mostly recovered herself, and Duncan told her what Michael had said.

“Thank God,” Jessie said, fresh tears coming to her eyes. “Oh, goodness, would you look at the time?” she cried. “Nicole will be home soon and I’m such a mess,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “Would you meet the bus while I freshen up?” Jessie asked.

“Of course,” Duncan replied. Jessie scurried to the bathroom and Duncan stepped out into a cool, crisp fall day. He meandered down the driveway, casting his eye over the property, as he waited for the bus. The grass had grown and could use one last cutting before the mower was put up for the season, and more leaves had fallen over the last week. The low growl of the school bus coming down the road filled the air, and Duncan turned his attention to the road. He greeted Nicole with a huge smile as she climbed off the bus and ran to him, jumping into his arms.

~*~*~*~

 _November 6, 2004  
Riverview B&B_

Surprisingly, both Michael Westmore and Jennifer Clark called back the next day. Michael informed Jessie that Tom had no right to see Nicole. Ms. Clark said that the file indicated they were supposed to alert Jessie to the parole hearing as a courtesy, but it had somehow fallen through the cracks. She apologized, but said that there was nothing she could do about it now. Tom Zeille had already been granted parole.

Duncan helped Jessie draft a short and to-the-point reply to Tom that was posted that day.

> Tom,
> 
> I have received your letter. Please do not come to Riverview. It would be a waste of your time, as you will not be allowed to see Nicole.
> 
> Jessica Wright

The time came and went for Tom Zeille’s release from prison and they heard nothing from him. For the first week, Jessie and Duncan were both on edge. Over the course of the second week, they let their guard down and went on with their lives. Their complacency ended on November 6th. It was a cold day, but the ground hadn’t frozen yet, and Duncan and Nicole were planting bulbs in one of the flowerbeds while Jessie laughingly directed them.

They all raised their heads as a beat-up blue two-door pulled into the driveway. Jessie moved towards the driveway to greet their visitor, anticipating someone looking for directions, as they weren’t expecting any guests this weekend.

“Hi,” Jessie greeted the man who stepped out of the car with a smile. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” he said. “You can let me see my daughter.”

Jessie’s face paled as she recognized Tom Zeille standing before her. “Get off my property,” she said, her voice strong, though she was shaking with fear and anger.

“Not until I see my daughter,” Tom replied. He turned to look at Nicole, who was still kneeling in the flowerbed. “Hello, Nicole.”

Nicole, sensing her grandmother’s distress, didn’t reply. Duncan stood and casually removed his gloves and wiped the knees of his jeans off. He moved so that he was standing between Nicole and Tom.

“The lady asked you to leave,” he said firmly.

“The lady has my daughter,” Tom growled, making the term sound like a slur. “I’m not leaving without seeing her.”

“Yes. You are,” Duncan said, his voice taking on a hint of Scottish burr.

“Who in hell are you?” Tom asked angrily.

“Ian?” Nicole whispered from behind Duncan, frightened.

“Ian?” Tom snorted in dismissal.

“Go inside, Nicole,” Duncan said, reaching behind him and pushing Nicole towards the house. “You too, Jessie,” he said. “Get inside. Call the police.”

“Nicole, sweetie, I’m your daddy,” Tom said, taking a step towards Nicole. “Come here, honey.” He held out his hand.

“Nicole.” Duncan spoke her name softly but firmly without taking his eyes off Tom. She looked up at him, then looked at Tom and Jessie, and turned to run towards the house.

“Nicole!” Tom yelled her name, and took another step towards her.

“No!” Jessie stepped between them. “Stay away from her!”

Tom lashed out, his arm hitting Jessie’s shoulder and knocking her to the ground. “Stay away from me, you bitch! You can’t keep her from me! She’s mine!”

Duncan was in motion before Jessie hit the ground. He grabbed Tom’s arm and whirled him around, landing a punch to his jaw. Tom staggered, but managed to catch himself before falling, and Duncan turned to help Jessie to her feet.

“Get in the house,” he urged when she was standing, and then turned back to face Tom. “Get off this property before we call the police. I would think that trespassing, harassment, and assault might be cause for revoking your parole.”

“I want my daughter,” Tom said, “and I’m not leaving here without her.”

“Seems you’re doomed to disappointment,” Duncan responded evenly.

“I don’t think so.” Tom pulled out a gun and grinned evilly as he pointed it at Duncan.

“Now that’s really a parole violation,” Duncan said. “So is murder. You might want to rethink this.” He narrowed his eyes. “You managed to get off pretty easy the first time. I don’t think they’ll be quite so ready to believe in your remorse the second.”

“Ian?” Jessie called his name softly. “Please be careful.”

The sound of her voice reanimated Tom, who had been just about to lower the gun. He raised his trembling hand and pointed the weapon at Jessie. “You took her away from me! She was mine, and you took her away!” he screamed, and pulled the trigger.

Duncan saw Tom take aim at Jessie, and dove between them. He heard a loud explosion and felt a searing pain as the bullet entered his chest. The ground rushed up to meet him, and he heard someone screaming. He reached up to touch his chest; his hand came away covered with blood.

The sight of blood spurting out of Duncan’s chest shocked Tom out of his rage. He started to shake when he realized that he’d shot someone else and could go back to jail. He waved the gun in the air, but Jessie ignored it.

“Get out of here!” she cried, as she fell to her knees beside Duncan. “Ian,” she said, pressing her hands against the gushing chest wound. “Ian, hold on. Please don’t die!”

Tom flew out of the driveway with a squeal of tires. The sound brought Duncan back to himself for a moment, and he grabbed Jessie’s hands. “Don’t call the police,” he begged.

“Ian, I have to call someone!” Jessie insisted.

“No. I know you don’t understand...I’ll be all right. I can’t die...forever,” he gasped. “Promise me.”

“Ian...”

“One hour... Give me one hour,” he begged, and his head fell back.

“Ian!” Nicole screamed, and threw herself on him. Duncan reached out for her, and died.

~*~*~*~

When Duncan revived fifteen minutes later, there was a weight lying on his chest. He groaned in pain as the wound healed, and the weight moved off him.

“Ian?” Nicole whimpered, her voice breaking with the tears she’d shed. Duncan opened his eyes and saw red, wet eyes staring down at him.

“Ian?” Jessie’s face appeared over Nicole’s shoulder. “Y-you were...there was no pulse,” she said in disbelief.

“Nicole, Jessie,” he said weakly. “Chr-, er, gosh, that hurts,” he groaned, clutching at his chest and curling up into a ball.

Jessie started to cry. “Jessie, don’t...” He rolled to his back and tried to reach for her, and then groaned again. “We need to get in the house,” he said from his position on the ground, as he looked up into the clear fall sky.

Jessie wiped her face and helped Nicole to her feet, and then took Duncan’s arm and helped him stand. By the time they reached the kitchen Duncan was feeling stronger and his chest wound was fully healed. He took his coat off and hung it over the back of one of the wooden chairs, and then took his blood-soaked flannel shirt and t-shirt off, and threw them in the sink.

He washed the blood off his chest and turned back to face Jessie. She silently reached out to touch his whole chest, and then her eyes rolled up in her head. Duncan caught her before she hit the floor and carried her into the living room, laying her on the couch. He returned to the kitchen for a cool, wet cloth, and saw Nicole huddled on the floor.

“Nic? Nicole?” he knelt down beside her.

“I thought you were dead,” she whimpered.

Duncan pulled her into his arms and she clutched at him, her tiny arms going around his neck, squeezing him so tightly he might have feared suffocation if he wasn’t immortal. He didn’t have any idea how to explain this to Jessie, much less to Nicole. He stood and got the cloth he’d come for, and carried it in to Jessie.

He knelt on the floor beside the couch and wiped Jessie’s face and neck, and then placed the cloth on her forehead. Nicole leaned against him, one arm around his neck, the other hand resting on her grandmother’s shoulder.

“She’ll be all right,” Duncan reassured Nicole. “She just had a big shock today.”

“Because my dad showed up?” Nicole asked. “Or because you didn’t die?”

Duncan stared at the perceptive five-year old in wonder. “Both,” he said.

They waited silently for Jessie to regain consciousness, just taking comfort in each other. Duncan wondered what he was going to do. Usually when mortals saw an Immortal die, the Immortal would leave; go somewhere else and start a new life. Duncan’s first thought was to do that. If Tom returned, he’d realize that there was something odd about Duncan when he found out he was still alive.

But that was the problem. Duncan was afraid to leave Jessie and Nicole alone. What if Tom did come back, and there was no one here to protect them? Besides, he loved both of them, and he didn’t really want to leave them. But what could he tell them that wouldn’t endanger them; endanger him? He suddenly remembered a story he had once told to another young girl. Perhaps it would also work in this case.

When Jessie woke up, Duncan assured her that she was all right, that they were all all right, and poured her a scotch. When she was finished with it, he took the glass from her trembling hand and set it on the end table, and then reseated himself on the floor.

“I’m going to tell you a story,” he said to Nicole, glancing briefly at Jessie to make sure she understood that the story was for her benefit also. He took a deep breath, and began.

“Once, there was this place where the faerie people lived. It was a beautiful city in those days, surrounded by white walls and tall stone towers. The faerie people were just like regular people, except they lived for a very long time, and they never grew old. The faeries were handsome, and wise, and very, very clever. The problem was, as time went on, there were more and more people, and soon the faerie people had to leave their home in the faerie city. They moved into the mountains, and into the old forests, and in the caves, and in the cliffs. But the other people always found these places, and so the faerie people had to move on. And now the faerie people live all around us. And you know what their job is?” he asked Nicole.

Wide-eyed at the tale Duncan was spinning for her, she shook her head ‘no’.

“It’s to protect children. And sometimes tell them stories,” he said. “But it’s very important that nobody know about the faerie people who live among us.”

“Why?” Nicole asked.

“Because some people might be jealous of the faerie people,” Duncan said.

“Because they’re different?” Nicole asked.

“Exactly because they’re different,” Duncan agreed.

That night after Nicole was in bed, Duncan poured two glasses of scotch and joined Jessie on the couch. He knew that she would have more questions than the story he’d told Nicole had answered, and he wanted to give her the chance to ask them, even if he couldn’t answer them all.

“Are you one of the faerie people, Ian?” Jessie asked him, her knuckles white around the glass she held, her gaze locked on the floor.

“I am,” Duncan replied softly.

“And have you lived a long time?” she asked, glancing at him.

“I have.”

“Can you tell me...how long?” she asked.

Duncan hesitated, and then said, “Four hundred and twelve years.”

“That is a long time,” Jessie whispered. “Is your name truly Duncan MacLeod?”

Duncan nodded at Jessie, and smiled at the memory. “Yes, it is. I was born in the Highlands of Scotland over four hundred years ago, to Ian and Mary MacLeod. My father was the chieftain of the Clan MacLeod.”

“Can you be killed?” Jessie asked, her voice a little high.

“Yes,” Duncan said. “But not from a bullet wound.”

“What would happen if others found out about you?” she asked worriedly.

“Fear, manhunts, genocide, experimentation,” Duncan rattled off a list of possible repercussion.

“Tom knows,” Jessie said with deep concern. “If he comes back...”

“I know,” Duncan said. “He’s a threat. But I can’t leave you alone in case he does come back. He’s more of a threat to you than to me.”

“Then what are we going to do?” Jessie asked.

Duncan took a deep breath. “I have a friend I can call. He might be able to help.”

“Then call him!” Jessie urged.

Duncan pulled out his cell phone and pressed in the number.

“Hey, Joe,” he said when the call was answered on the other end. “I’m fine... Yeah, it’s good to hear your voice, too. Listen Joe, I have a problem... Very funny. I was shot and some people saw me die.” He listened to Joe’s response, and then said, “Yes, Jessie and Nicole were there, but I’m more concerned with the guy who shot me... Of course, he’s still alive!” he hissed.

Duncan’s eyes got big as he listened to Joe’s reaction, moving the phone away from his ear at one point. “Don’t worry.” He tried to smile reassuringly at the elderly woman, who suddenly looked her age. “He’s gonna help. Eventually.”

Chapter Seven

 _November 6, 2004  
Seacouver_

“Adam!” Joe flung his office door open. “Get in here.” He turned and limped back over to his desk, dropping heavily onto the chair.

Methos poked his head in the door. “What’s up, Joe?” he asked.

“Come in. And close the door,” Joe replied shortly.

Methos shut the door and flopped down on the couch, then looked at Joe expectantly.

Joe took a deep breath, and then dove right in. “That was Mac. He was shot...”

“Is he all right?” Methos interrupted to ask worriedly.

“Yep! Still alive and kicking, but his death was witnessed...”

“Oh, hell, by who?” Methos interrupted again.

“By Jessie and Nicole,” Joe responded.

Methos pictured the older woman and the young girl in his head. After receiving the information that Duncan was headed to Nebraska, Methos hired a private detective to meet the flight and make sure that Duncan actually stayed in Nebraska. He then hacked into the airline’s computer and copied the flight list.

When he returned to Joe’s apartment after obtaining the information, the first words out of his mouth were, “Nebraska! What in hell is he doing in bloody Nebraska?”

“Working at a Bed & Breakfast,” Joe replied, and then filled Methos in on what Duncan had told him.

“A handyman?” Methos asked in disbelief.

When Amanda returned, the three of them poured over the names on the list, until Joe found Ian Richards.

“Ian. His father’s name,” Methos breathed, relieved that they knew the name Duncan was using. Or at least, had used to get out of Seacouver.

“And Richie,” Joe said.

“He flew coach?” Amanda exclaimed.

When the detective contacted Methos to inform him that Duncan had driven a Chevy Blazer out of the airport parking lot, Methos told him to follow the other man and find out where he went. The detective found the Riverview Bed & Breakfast and took pictures, which he e-mailed to Methos.

Methos had nearly cried when he saw the first photo; Duncan was holding a young blonde child in his arms, and she was smiling up at him. More importantly, he was smiling at her. Methos remembered when Duncan had smiled like that for him. He missed it terribly.

“Where’s he going?” Methos asked, returning to the current problem, concerned that they might lose him again.

“See, that’s the problem,” Joe said. “He doesn’t want to leave. Turns out, the guy who shot him is Nicole’s father. Jessie has full custody, but this guy is after some inheritance, and he might come back. He doesn’t want to leave them unprotected,” Joe explained.

“Still a bloody boy scout,” Methos complained, rolling his eyes. “When are we flying out?” he asked with a deep sigh.

“We?” Joe asked, surprised.

“Yeah, we. You don’t think I’m going to let you go alone, do you? You just got out of the hospital!” Methos retorted.

“Four weeks ago!” Joe defended himself.

“Flight?” Methos asked again.

“I haven’t made...”

“I will.” Methos pulled out his cell phone and dialed his travel agent to make the flight reservations. When he was done, he folded the phone back up and tucked it in his pocket. “All set. There’s a flight out tomorrow morning. I’ll pick you up at eight. Now,” he said as he stood, “I have a shift to finish.”

Joe watched Methos amble out of the room, and then smiled sadly. It was apparent that Methos wouldn’t be satisfied that Duncan was all right until he could see it with his own eyes, even if it could hurt him more than it helped.

~*~*~*~

 _November 7, 2004  
Riverview B&B_

Duncan was sweeping snow off the walkway from the light dusting they’d received that morning when he saw a silver four-door sedan slow and turn into the driveway. Moments after he noticed the car, he felt presence. Methos’ presence. Duncan groaned. Joe had promised to help, but he’d never thought the other man would actually fly to Nebraska. Or that he’d bring Methos.

Duncan finished sweeping the sidewalk, glad that he’d already done the steps and ramp to the porch. When the car rolled to a stop, he set the broom aside and stepped forward to open the passenger side door for Joe.

“Hello, Joe,” Duncan greeted the other man with a questioning lift of his eyebrow.

“Mac!” Joe hugged Duncan. It was good to see him again. To be reassured that he was still in one piece. “I was a little worried about you, buddy.”

“I’m fine, Joe,” Duncan said. “You didn’t need to come all the way out here...,” he paused. “How did you know where to find me?” he asked, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t told Joe where he was living.

“Didn’t you give me directions?” Joe asked innocently, and then stepped away from the angry Immortal. “You must be Jessie,” he said, holding his hand out to the woman who had come out to greet the new arrivals.

“Yes.” She smiled as she allowed Joe to take her hand. “And you must be Joe. How are you doing after your stay in the hospital?” she asked.

“I’m doing fine,” Joe assured her. “Adam says I’m too crotchety to be sick for too long.”

Jessie smiled. “It’s good of you to come out and help Ian.”

“Yes, well, Ian’s had my back before,” Joe replied.

“Jessie, why don’t you take Joe inside?” Duncan suggested. “I’ll get his bags... I assume there are bags?” he asked Joe sarcastically.

“Just a couple,” Joe replied with an unrepentant smile. “Nice place,” he said to Jessie.

Duncan turned his attention to the car, and the other Immortal. Methos had gotten out of the car while Duncan was greeting and berating Joe, and had surveyed the house. Now he stood with his back to the house, looking out over the river below.

“Lovely view,” he said, under the weight of Duncan’s stare.

“Yes,” Duncan replied. His whole body had begun to vibrate when he sensed Methos’ presence, and the sight of the other man was like a balm to his system. He wanted to hold him, to kiss him; until his mind regained control, and he remembered why they were separated in the first place. His heart clenched as a fresh wave of pain spread through him.

“What are you doing here, Methos?” he asked sharply.

“Joe didn’t want to travel alone,” Methos replied. “It’s only been four weeks since he got out of the hospital, you know,” he said, letting annoyance color his tone.

Joe chuckled to himself when he heard Methos’ fib.

“What is it?” Jessie asked.

“Those two,” Joe said, “are going to be the death of me, yet.”

“Is he a friend of Ian’s, too?” Jessie asked, holding the front door open for Joe.

“They’ve known each other for a while,” Joe replied vaguely, as he followed Jessie into the house and closed the door on the two Immortals.

~*~*~*~

“That doesn’t explain why the two of you are here at all,” Duncan pushed.

“Joe wanted to make sure for himself that you were all right,” Methos said. It wasn’t a lie, but only part of the truth. He’d wanted to make sure that Duncan was all right, too. Knowing the man was immortal didn’t help when you were hundreds of miles away and he’d been shot.

“Joe never did say how you found me,” Duncan said.

“No?” Methos turned around to look at Duncan, giving him his best innocent look. Gods, the man looked fine. He was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans, a dark blue t-shirt under a gray sweatshirt, a pair of work boots, and a light denim jacket against the November chill.

“That look’s not going to work, Methos,” Duncan said, frustrated.

Methos opened the back door of the car to retrieve his backpack, duffel, and sword. “What look?” he asked, shooting Duncan that same innocent look.

Duncan sighed and shook his head. “I probably should be grateful that you’ve known where I am and still left me alone,” Duncan remarked, as he grabbed Joe’s bags and led the way into the house. Duncan set them down inside the front door and indicated that Methos should do the same with his, then led the older Immortal into the kitchen where Jessie and Joe were sitting at the table.

~*~*~*~

“I put water on for tea,” she told Duncan, and then glanced at Methos. “I hope that’s all right?”

“That would be lovely,” Methos said, smiling at the woman.

“Jessie, this is Adam,” Duncan reluctantly introduced them. “You’ve already met Joe...”

“It’s a real pleasure to meet friends of Ian’s,” Jessie said with a sincere smile, as she shook Methos’ hand. Methos and Duncan both flinched at Jessie’s words. Jessie noted their reaction, but said nothing. “Please, have a seat,” she invited instead.

Noticing both men sit as far away from each other as the small kitchen table would allow, Jessie asked, “So, what happens next?” as she stood to pour the boiling water into the teapot.

“Yeah, Joe, any lead on Zeille?” Duncan asked.

“We’ve got people looking for him,” Joe said. “If he’s still in the area, we’ll find him.”

“What if he’s not?” Jessie asked worriedly, setting the cozy-covered teapot on the table.

“Then we expand the search,” Joe said. “We’ll find him.”

“What then?” Jessie asked, her shaking hands clinking the mugs she was carrying over to the table.

“Then we kill him,” Methos muttered.

“We don’t kill him!” Duncan hissed. “We’re not in the business of killing mortals.”

“You can judge your own kind, but not mortals?” Methos retorted with a well-placed barb.

“Why not?” Jessie asked at the same time. Methos, surprised, turned to look at her; as did Duncan.

“Jessie,” Duncan said gently, “it’s not our place...”

“Then whose is it?” she asked. “He killed Rose; he killed you! Do you think he wants Nicole because he thinks she’s precious? He’d probably kill her too, if he had a chance. I would do anything to keep him away from her,” Jessie finished resolutely, as she slammed the creamer and sugar down on the table.

The three men just stared at her. Methos was the first one to recover, and his lips curled up in a warm smile. He reached out and took her hand, gently pulling her to the chair. “Sit,” he said softly.

“What happens if we don’t find him? If he’s fled the area? I mean, he could wait ten years and come back...” Jessie’s voice was filled with concern.

“He won’t wait ten years,” Methos said. “Not if he’s after money, or revenge. And if he’s left the area, an anonymous telephone call to his parole officer will have the police looking for him, too. He won’t stay hidden for long,” he reassured her.

“I hope not,” she said, reaching for the teapot. “I don’t want to have to constantly be worried that he’s going to come back for her.” Jessie poured the tea and distributed the mugs. “What happens if he says something about shooting Ian?” she asked. “To the police, I mean.”

“Then it’s your word against his; yours, and Du-, er, Ian’s, and Nicole’s, if necessary. You say the shot went wide.”

“But, the blood!” Jessie said, horrified as she remembered the blood covering Duncan’s chest.

“Hallucination. The shot must have brought back memories of your daughter’s murder, and he ran off,” Methos suggested gently. “The word of an ex-con against the word of an upstanding member of the community...no one’s going to believe him.”

“Is that true?” Jessie asked, turning to Duncan.

“Probably,” he agreed, and then suddenly cocked his head, listening. “Shoot!” he said, jumping to his feet and shoving his chair back. “The bus!”

Duncan ran out of the kitchen and down the hall, and they heard the front door bang closed. “Nicole’s home,” Jessie said with a smile, as she stood to pour a glass of milk for her granddaughter.

“Shoot?” Joe repeated incredulously.

Jessie laughed. “You should hear Ian try not to swear in front of Nicole! It’s the funniest thing.” She set a cookie jar on the table and removed the cover. “I forgot to offer you gentlemen a cookie,” she said.

“I’ll take one, but he’s no gentleman,” Joe said, indicating Methos as he reached for a cookie.

Jessie could see that Methos wasn’t listening. He had stood and moved to the window overlooking the front lawn, watching as Duncan jogged down the driveway towards the bus. Nicole, a small, blonde bundle of energy, shot off the bus and raced up the drive towards Duncan. The younger Immortal picked her up and hugged her, and then swung her around, before putting her down and taking her hand in his. The sight heart-wrenching, he watched the two of them, one large, dark man and one small, fair child, walking back toward the house.

~*~*~*~

Nicole was introduced to ‘Ian’s friends, Joe and Adam’, and they sat around the kitchen table drinking tea or milk and eating peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. After ‘snack’ was over, Jessie had Duncan put Joe’s and Methos’ bags in their rooms. She put Joe in the downstairs, handicapped accessible room, and Methos in the room at the end of the hall upstairs that overlooked the river.

While Duncan was hauling luggage, Joe entertained Nicole - who was fascinated with his beard, and Methos assisted Jessie with dinner preparations.

“She seems very well-adjusted and calm for a child who’s been through as much as she has.” Methos spoke softly, so that Nicole wouldn’t overhear him.

“She’s a brave little girl,” Jessie said with a smile and a loving glance at her granddaughter, who was wrapping a string of yarn around Joe’s fingers and showing him how to play ‘cat’s cradle’.

“I don’t know how she does it,” she added in wonder. “She’s always been so... I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Observant. Wise; for someone so young. Or maybe it’s that the young see things better than we do as we get older.”

“Perhaps,” Methos responded noncommittally

“Ian,” Jessie said, when Duncan returned, “would you be a dear and put their car under the carport in case we get more snow tonight?”

“Sure,” Duncan said, gritting his teeth. “Where are the keys?” he asked Methos.

“Right front pocket,” Methos automatically replied, cocking his hip helpfully, and the room froze. “I mean,” he stammered, feeling his face flush, “I’ll get them in just a sec.” He dried his hands off and reached into his pocket to retrieve the keys. He held his hand back to Duncan, handing him the keys without looking at the other man.

Hell, he couldn’t believe what he had just done! For a moment, he had forgotten that he and Duncan were through, that the past six months had happened, that Duncan would never reach into his pocket for keys again. He waited for Duncan to leave the room, and then glanced quickly at Jessie.

“Excuse me,” he said with a strained smile, and then turned and walked stiffly out of the kitchen. He stood in the hallway considering his options, and then headed for the back door. He pushed it open, and stepped out onto a porch. He lowered himself to the steps, perched his elbows on his knees, and dropped his head into his hands.

~*~*~*~

“Did they have a fight?” Nicole asked without looking away from her hands where she manipulated the yarn around her fingers.

Jessie stared after Methos, her mouth open in surprise. “You know,” she said, almost to herself, “I never imagined that the person who broke his heart was a man. Why did he come here?” she asked, turning to Joe.

“Same as me,” Joe said. “Wanted to make sure the young fool was all right. You don’t just tell someone you’ve been shot, even if you are, uh...” He hesitated.

“A faerie?” Nicole supplied, her little tongue held between her teeth as she concentrated. “There! I did it!”

“That’s great!” Joe encouraged her, and then turned to Jessie and mouthed, ‘A faerie?’

“Duncan told Nicole a story about faeries who live a long time, and who live among us now,” Jessie explained, and Joe nodded in understanding. She turned to look at the doorway through which both men had disappeared.

“When Ian told me why he left his home I thought that he, well, actually, I thought she, but now, he,” Jessie babbled, “had left Ian...”

“No,” Joe shook his head. “Adam hurt, uh, Ian. But Ian left Adam.”

“He still loves him.” Jessie was still stunned at the revelation.

“Who?”

“Adam. He still loves Ian,” Jessie clarified.

“Yes,” Joe said sadly. “I think he always will.”

“Always will what?” Duncan asked, overhearing the tail-end of their conversation as he stepped back into the kitchen.

“Love you,” Nicole replied distractedly, as she wrapped the yarn around her fingers for another game, and the room froze again.

“Nicole!” Jessie hissed, embarrassed to be caught discussing Ian’s love life.

“What?” Nicole looked up innocently.

“Little pitchers...” Joe laughed and shook his head.

Duncan looked between Joe and Jessie. “Where’s Adam?” he asked, bouncing the keys in his hand.

“I think I heard the back door open,” Jessie offered, looking at Duncan apologetically.

~*~*~*~

Duncan gave her a tight smile, and then turned to leave the kitchen and find Methos. He felt Methos’ presence get stronger as he walked to the back of the house. He stepped out onto the porch to see Methos sitting on the steps with his head in his hands.

Methos lifted his head and straightened his shoulders. “MacLeod,” he said shakily, trying to distance himself.

“Methos,” Duncan replied. “Keys.” He held them over Methos’ shoulder, and Methos reached up to take them without looking back. “Why did you come here?” Duncan asked again, as he leaned against the porch column and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I told you...”

“Yeah,” Duncan interrupted. “The truth this time.”

“Because I wanted to make sure you were all right,” Methos admitted. “Because I needed to see you. Because I bloody miss you,” he admitted in a near whisper.

“I didn’t do this to us,” Duncan hissed angrily.

“I know that,” Methos replied brokenly. “I know. And I would undo it if I could, but I can’t.” They were both silent for a couple minutes, and then Methos asked, “Will you ever be able to forgive me?”

Duncan thought about it for a moment, as he stared at the other man’s bowed head. “Maybe,” he allowed. “But I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust you again,” he said, and then jumped off the porch and strode towards the carriage house.

Chapter Eight

 _November 7, 2004  
Riverview B&B_

Methos let the tears he’d been fighting back fall as he watched Duncan walk away from him, and they ran down his cheeks unchecked. He was such a bloody idiot. He had known that seeing Duncan would be difficult, but had allowed himself to hope that time and distance might have lessened the other man’s feelings of hurt betrayal. He should have known better, after Duncan’s visit to Seacouver last month.

But he had foolishly allowed himself to believe that he could handle this visit; anything to be able to see with his own eyes that Duncan was all right...

“Are you crying?” Nicole asked from beside his shoulder.

Bloody hell! he thought as he wiped his face. He hadn’t heard her approach, so caught up in his own thoughts, his own pain. “No,” he lied.

“Are you sad?” she asked, lowering herself to the porch beside him.

Christ, he was pathetic! “A little,” he admitted, with a manly shrug.

“Were you worried about Ian? Being shot, I mean?” she asked.

“Yes,” Methos said, nodding, and fresh tears filled his eyes. “I was very worried.”

“Me, too,” Nicole said, and leaned her shoulder against his arm. “I thought he was dead for real.”

“You won’t tell anyone I cried, will you?” Methos asked, lifting his shirt and wiping his face on it.

“No,” Nicole replied seriously. “I can keep good secrets.”

“Thanks,” Methos replied, just as seriously.

Nicole stared up at him, and Methos got nervous. “What?” he asked.

“Do you like ice cream?” she asked, blinking at him with big blue eyes.

~*~*~*~

Before dinner, Nicole cornered her grandmother. “But he needs ice cream,” she insisted, trying to convince Jessie that they had to go to Buster’s after supper. “He’s very sad. He was worried about Ian. He cried,” she whispered. “It’s a secret, though, so you can’t say anything.”

Jessie felt tears burn her own eyes as she thought about Adam crying over Ian, and then felt a burst of pride that Nicole wanted to help him to feel better. “All right,” she allowed. “You can ask over supper.”

“Thank you!” Nicole beamed at her grandmother and gave her a quick hug before running off to find Joe.

When Jessie took the platter of steaks out to the back porch to put them on the grill, Methos was still sitting on the steps. “Can I ask you to watch these for me?” She motioned to the steaks, as she lifted the lid and started the grill.

Methos looked up to watch Jessie put the steaks on the grill and close the lid. “Sure,” he agreed tonelessly.

“Where’s Ian?” she asked.

Methos pointed towards the carriage house. “He went over there,” he said.

“Ah,” Jessie said, “his apartment; maybe to get a change of clothes. He stayed in the house last night; he was worried that Tom might come back. Thanks for keeping an eye on the steaks,” she said, changing the subject, and then breezed back into the house.

~*~*~*~

Duncan had returned to the main house showered and changed by the time dinner was served. He had walked away from Methos without any thought to where he was going. When he got to his apartment, he wandered aimlessly through it. He couldn’t believe that Methos was here, at Riverview. He’d never expected to see him again; though he should have learned to expect the unexpected over his long lifetime. Especially where Methos was concerned.

He didn’t know what to think about Methos’ request for forgiveness. He’d spent so much time thinking about Methos’ betrayal, and how much it had hurt him, and so much time playing pictures in his head of Methos with Cameron, he’d never considered the fact that Methos might be just as unhappy as he was. Not that the bastard didn’t deserve it; Duncan hardened his heart. How dare he! How fucking dare he?

~*~*~*~

Over steak and baked potatoes, Nicole announced that they were all going down to Buster’s for ice cream after dinner, and then continued eating.

“Uh, Nicole, honey,” Jessie said, “weren’t you going to ask them if they wanted to go?”

“Who wouldn’t want ice cream?” Nicole asked as if it was inconceivable. And so, after dinner dishes were cleaned up, they all went to Buster’s. They drove so Joe didn’t have to walk over potentially slippery sidewalks, and Nicole insisted on sitting in the backseat between Joe and Methos. When they got to Buster’s, she took Methos’ hand in hers, and then waited for Duncan to walk around the car.

Nicole held out her other hand to Duncan, who automatically reached out to take it, and then pulled the two men towards the front door. Jessie shared a look with Joe, and then followed them. Nicole led them to a booth, shoved Duncan in ahead of her, and then slid in beside him.

“Sit,” Nicole said, looking up at Methos through long lashes, and patting the seat beside her. Methos sighed in resignation, took his coat off, and sat down beside her. Jessie slid onto the seat across from Duncan, and Joe seated himself beside her. Nicole wiggled around, getting comfortable between the two men.

When the waitress came, Nicole ordered three dishes of chocolate ice cream, and then looked expectantly at Joe. “What do you want, Joe?” she asked.

“Nicole, perhaps you should let Adam and Ian order for themselves,” Jessie suggested.

“But chocolate makes everything better,” Nicole said. “You said so.”

Duncan and Methos made a pointed effort not to look at each other.

Jessie stared at Nicole, not knowing what to say. “Yes, I did,” Jessie said, and looked at the waitress. “I’ll take chocolate, too.”

Nicole grinned happily.

“I’m all for feeling better,” Joe said. “Chocolate.”

“Five bowls of chocolate ice cream coming right up,” the waitress said with a grin.

“Thanks, Paula,” Jessie said.

Duncan stared at the table. The comfortable world he’d made for himself had been shaken up, and he wasn’t sure he liked that. It had been difficult enough trying to forget about Methos before, but now that the older Immortal had infiltrated his new life it would be nearly impossible. He couldn’t pretend that his life before coming to Nebraska didn’t exist, that his relationship with Methos had never happened, when the proof was sitting right beside him.

“Ian, how did you meet Adam?” Nicole asked.

“Sweetheart, maybe we should...”

“That’s all right,” Duncan said, although it was the most difficult thing he could remember doing since he left Seacouver. “We met in Paris.”

“Paris?” Nicole squealed. “You’ve been to Paris? Where’s Paris?” she asked her grandmother.

~*~*~*~

When they got back to the house, Nicole begged everyone to watch a movie with her. While Jessie popped some corn and poured juice for Nicole, Methos excused himself to make a telephone call. He slipped out to the back porch and called Hank Lappus, the private detective who had followed Duncan from the airport to the Bed & Breakfast, and later provided him with pictures, an address, and directions.

After Duncan had called Joe about Tom Zeille, Methos called Lappus with the details. He’d spoken to him this morning before their flight left Seacouver - Lappus had checked local businesses and motels the night before; no one fitting Zeille’s description had been seen. He also hacked into the DMV computer and got the license number of Zeille’s car. He was going to check neighboring towns for the man, and if he couldn’t find him there, check the airlines, train stations, and bus station to see if he’d fled town using one of those methods.

As soon as Lappus realized who was calling him, he launched into a to-the-point explanation. Tom Zeille had been spotted in a town three hundred miles away, headed east. “All right,” Methos said, disappointed. He really wanted to kill the bastard who had shot Duncan. “We’ll call the police. Send me a bill; you still have the address?”

“Who was that?” Duncan asked, after Methos ended the call.

“Jesus, MacLeod!” Methos gasped, grabbing his chest as he spun around to face the other man. “I thought you were with Nicole!” He was unaccountably angry. He’d thought Duncan safely in the living room, and had been surprised that he’d been able to sneak up behind him. The other man’s presence was a complete distraction, pervading his very being, and it angered Methos that he was so vulnerable to the other man.

“No,” Duncan said. “So, who was that?”

“Financial advisor,” Methos lied, snapping his phone shut and slipping it into his pocket.

“Was he robbed?” Duncan asked.

“No, why?” Methos asked.

“You mentioned calling the police,” Duncan replied reasonably.

“Oh,” Methos said. He’d forgotten about that. “It was the private investigator we hired to find Zeille,” he admitted. “He was spotted three hundred miles away heading east.”

“Why couldn’t you just tell me that without the runaround?” Duncan asked, exasperated.

Methos just shrugged. He hadn’t wanted Duncan to know who was helping him, afraid the man wouldn’t accept it.

“I thought Joe could...”

“What?” Methos asked, irritated. “Use the Watchers as your private investigators?”

“No!” Duncan denied. “Well, maybe.”

Methos just tilted his head and rolled his eyes.

“So, three hundred miles away, and still going, that’s good, right? He’s not here to hurt Jessie or Nicole,” Duncan said.

“No, but he’s still out there, and could come back. We need to alert the police so they can pick him up and put him back behind bars, where he belongs!” Methos was almost yelling by the time he finished. Bastard. Shooting Duncan was just not allowed!

“Okay, so we’ll call the police. Anonymously,” Duncan said. He looked at Methos after a brief hesitation. “You going to call?”

“Me? Why should I call?” Methos asked, just to be difficult. “You call. I hired the private dick!” The familiar bantering felt good.

“I could have done that!” Duncan defended himself.

“Yes, you could have,” Methos said softly. “Instead you called your friends.”

The two men stared at each other until Nicole came and got them for the movie. She led them to the couch, which she had ‘called’, and snuggled between them. Joe and Jessie were sitting in stuffed chairs beside the couch. Before the movie was over, Nicole started to fall asleep. She crawled into Duncan’s lap, and tried to pull Methos closer to them.

“What are you doing?” Methos whispered as the young girl tugged at his hand.

“I want to hold your hand,” Nicole whined sleepily.

“You are holding my hand,” Methos reasoned.

“I want you to sit closer so we can cuddle,” she pleaded.

Methos swallowed hard. “I don’t think that’s...”

“Please?” she wheedled.

“Nicole, love, stop,” Duncan whispered firmly.

“But I want...”

Methos stood up, unable to take anymore. “I’m a little bit tired,” he said. “I think I’ll just go to bed.” He disentangled his hand from Nicole’s, leaned over to kiss the top of her head, and then sauntered out of the living room. When he reached the hallway he looked up the stairs, but he wasn’t sure he could make them. He went out onto the back porch, which was beginning to feel like home, and sunk down onto the step.

A moment later, Jessie sat down beside him. “Mind if I join you?” she asked after she sat.

“No,” Methos said.

“She didn’t mean to hurt you,” Jessie said.

“I know,” Methos assured her. “She didn’t hurt me.”

“But she stirred up the pain, yes?” Jessie asked.

“Yes.” Methos nodded. “Just coming here - seeing him again - stirred up the pain.”

“But, you knew that would happen,” Jessie pushed gently.

“Yes,” Methos admitted.

“Yet, you came anyway.”

“Yes,” Methos nodded.

“You must love him very much,” Jessie said, as she reached out to brush Methos’ hair off his forehead.

“Yes,” Methos’ voice broke. “Very much. But I...I hurt him, and he...”

“It wouldn’t hurt him so much, still, if he didn’t love you,” Jessie said, and pulled him into her arms.

“Love isn’t always enough,” Methos said against her shoulder.

~*~*~*~

“Talk to him,” Joe urged.

“I don’t want to talk to him,” Duncan said.

“You stubborn jackass!” Joe swore.

“Joe!” Duncan hissed, indicating Nicole.

“I’m sorry,” Nicole whispered.

“Oh, sweetie, it’s not your fault,” Duncan said. “Adam and I...”

“He was...,” Nicole started.

“He was what?” Duncan asked.

“Nothing,” Nicole said sorrowfully.

“Tell me,” Duncan urged.

“Crying. But I promised not to tell,” Nicole said.

“When was he crying?” Joe asked. Duncan didn’t need to ask, as he remembered their conversation that afternoon. ‘Will you ever be able to forgive me?’ ‘Maybe. But I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust you again.’

“Before dinner,” Nicole said.

“What did you say to him?” Joe asked Duncan accusingly.

“It’s none of your business, Joe!” Duncan replied.

“I have to live with him!” Joe responded. “Every time you leave, he’s a mess!”

“I’ve only left once!” Duncan defended himself. “And besides, he left me first.”

“You’ve left twice,” Joe said. “And when we leave you this time, it’ll be just as bad, if not worse. Because now he’ll know you moved on without him, and are never coming back.”

Nicole started crying.

“Joe, stop! You’re upsetting Nicole,” Duncan admonished.

“He’s so sad,” Nicole sobbed. “Please go talk to him.”

Duncan gave up. He stood and dropped Nicole into Joe’s lap, and then went looking for Methos. When he found him on the porch, the other man was leaning against Jessie’s shoulder.

Methos sensed Duncan and sat up, wiping his eyes.

“Am I interrupting?” Duncan asked.

“Of course not.” Jessie turned to him with a smile. “I was just leaving. See you at breakfast.” She patted Methos’ arm.

Methos nodded. “Thanks,” he said.

Jessie squeezed his arm and stood, taking the hand Duncan held out to assist her. After she left, Duncan just stood staring down at Methos. He didn’t really know what to say. He’d never pictured the scene where he got to tell Methos how much what the other Immortal had done hurt him, mainly because he’d really never expected to see the man again. Oh, maybe in a hundred years or so, when the pain level had decreased to a dull ache.

“I’ll get a flight out in the morning,” Methos said. His voice hoarse, his tone resigned. “Joe can stay for a couple days and visit, if he wants. As long as you don’t mind giving him a ride to the airport.”

Duncan didn’t respond. Now that he had the idea of yelling at Methos in his head, he wanted to, and he wasn’t going to have time. Sure! Leave tomorrow, he thought disgustedly.

“Don’t forget to call the police,” Methos added.

“How could you do something like that?” Duncan asked.

Methos closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I was scared,” he said.

“Scared? Of what?” Duncan asked, incredulous.

“Of getting lost!” Methos yelled, standing. “Of losing everything I am in you!”

“And sleeping with someone else helped you not get lost?” Duncan asked. Methos didn’t reply. “What was it? An act of rebellion to show you were still independent?”

Methos just shook his head. “Answer me, dammit!” Duncan yelled, and kicked the porch column. “Did you even want us? Ever?”

“Of course I wanted us!” Methos cried.

“Then why did you kiss him?” Duncan exploded.

“What?” Methos asked, suddenly lost.

“You couldn’t stand to have me touch you in public; not even to hold your hand,” Duncan said. “You held his hand, and you kissed him. Were you ashamed of us? Or did you just love him that much?”

“No! Gods, of course not, Duncan! How could you think that I was ashamed of us?” Methos asked, shocked, and reached for Duncan’s hand.

“How could I not?” Duncan asked, pulling away.

“I didn’t love him. I loved you. I loved you more than anything,” Methos said. “I still do.”

“Well, that’s a pretty sad commentary on love, isn’t it?” Duncan asked sorrowfully.

“Please, Duncan, give me another chance,” Methos pleaded.

“And what happens when you get scared again, Methos?” Duncan asked.

“I won’t,” Methos promised. “Please, trust me.”

Duncan shook his head regretfully and walked away.

Chapter Nine

 _November 8, 2004  
Riverview B&B_

Methos returned to Seacover the next day as he had promised, and Joe went with him. After they left, Jessie called the Sheriff’s Department and told them that Tom Zeille had paid her a visit after he got out of jail; that he’d waved a gun at her and fired a shot that went wide, just in case there had been any reports of a gunshot. They had decided to go with as much of the truth as possible, since they hoped that Zeille would get picked up by the police and returned to jail. The Sheriff’s Department sent a deputy out to take their statements. They contacted the State Police and the FBI, and an all-points bulletin was put out for Tom Zeille.

Once Methos was gone, Duncan got on with his life. The only difference was in the dreams that kept him up at night. In these dreams, Methos was begging Duncan to take him back, and he cried when Duncan walked away. After a week of not sleeping, Jessie intervened.

“Ian, sit down,” she said one morning after breakfast.

Duncan reluctantly sat back down in the chair he had just vacated. Despite being centuries older than she, Jessie sometimes made him feel like a schoolboy about to be scolded.

“You’re not sleeping. You look like hell, and you could get hurt. What’s wrong?” she asked. “And don’t lie to me,” she added, as Duncan opened his mouth to do just that.

“Just bad dreams,” he said.

“About Adam?” she asked perceptively.

Duncan closed his eyes, and let out a deep breath. “Yes,” he admitted.

“I know he hurt you,” Jessie said gently, and took Duncan’s hand in her own. “But are you any happier without him?”

“What if he did it again?” Duncan asked.

“I barely know the man, and I could tell that he was miserable,” she said. “Even if you can’t trust him not to hurt you, do you honestly think that he would purposely do this to himself again?”

Duncan didn’t respond, and Jessie patted his hand. “Just think about it,” she said.

~*~*~*~

 _November 25, 2004  
Thanksgiving Day  
Riverview B&B_

Although she was feeling safe with Duncan now living in the house with her and Nicole, her brush with death at the hand of Tom Zeille had frightened Jessie. It was enough to act as the catalyst that got her to make an appointment with Michael to update her Will, which hadn’t been looked at since her husband died, several years before Rose’s death.

Despite the recent upheaval - Zeille shooting Duncan, and Joe’s and Methos’ visit - their lives moved on pretty much as usual. It was almost Thanksgiving, and Jessie was looking forward to the holiday more this year than any other. She and Nicole had been happy, but the girl seemed to positively glow around Duncan. He brought joy to their lives, and Jessie was thankful for it.

The only dark spot was Nicole’s constant begging to invite Joe and Adam for Thanksgiving Day. Jessie knew that Duncan wasn’t ready to see them again, if he ever would be, and so she told Nicole that the two men already had plans. She did invite Clara and Belle to join them, and Clara offered to make the pies. She really did make the best apple pie in the county, so Jessie immediately agreed.

When the day finally arrived, Jessie was up early with the turkey. Once that was done she washed up the good dishes that hadn’t been used since the last holiday, and set the table in the dining room. While she was doing that, Duncan made breakfast for her and Nicole and refused to let her help with the clean-up. As soon as Duncan had the kitchen spic-and-span, they messed it up again.

Duncan peeled potatoes, white and sweet, while Nicole shredded bread. Jessie diced celery and measured the other ingredients for the stuffing, and then opened the cans for the escalloped corn. Since she’d stirred up the cabbage and fruit salads the day before, that was all they had left to make this morning. She couldn’t remember having this much fun preparing Thanksgiving dinner since Rose died.

When Clara and Belle arrived, Nicole raced to answer the door. Duncan followed her to help with the pies. “Hi, Clara,” he greeted the redhead with a peck on the cheek.

“Ian! How are you?” Clara asked as she relinquished the pies she carried to Duncan.

“I’m fine, and you?” Duncan replied.

“Wonderful!” Clara enthused.

“And you, Isabelle Marie?” Duncan asked. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. And stop calling me that!” Belle groused playfully. Duncan smiled at the expected response.

“Give me a hug, and I’ll think about it,” he offered. Belle smiled at him and gave him the requested hug, and then the four of them headed for the kitchen where Jessie was cleaning up the mess they’d made preparing the food.

While the women greeted each other Duncan found a spot on the counter to put the pies. When the food was ready, he carved the turkey while Jessie and Clara filled bowls and set them on the table. Belle and Nicole got out milk and cider and filled cups, and then everyone sat down.

They all held hands, and Jessie said a prayer of thanks. When she was done, she added that she was especially thankful for her beautiful granddaughter, and that Ian had come into their lives. Duncan got choked up.

“And I am very thankful that I met you and Nicole,” he told her. “You both mean a lot to me. Everyone in this town has been very friendly and accepting, and I appreciate it more than you can know,” he said.

“I’m glad Ian came here to live,” Nicole piped up, “and that he let us meet Joe and Adam.”

Jessie squeezed Duncan’s hand, and then told everyone to dig in. It was the happiest Thanksgiving Day that Jessie could remember.

The next morning, Duncan helped Jessie carry the Christmas decorations down from the attic. She wanted to sort through them and start putting up the smaller decorations. Duncan took the outside lights and started putting them up. On Saturday, they picked up a tree and several wreaths. They set the tree up in the living room so the branches could fall, and hung the wreaths on the front and back doors. On Sunday, Duncan finished hanging the outside lights and they plugged them in for the first time, then walked around the house to look at them.

~*~*~*~

 _November 29, 2004  
Riverview B&B_

On Monday, Jessie went shopping. She had done most of her Christmas shopping already, but planned on looking for some additional items for both Nicole and Duncan, and wanted to check out the new decorations in case something caught her eye. Duncan agreed to watch Nicole when she got home from school. After spending the day rehanging one of the upstairs doors and oiling hinges, he and Nicole had an early supper at Belle’s Diner.

Duncan and Nicole were just trying to decide what kind of pie to have for dessert when Clara came running out of the kitchen.

“Ian!” she called excitedly. “The police scanner,” she said breathlessly, as she reached the table. “Tom Zeille was spotted crossing the county line half an hour ago, but they lost him.”

Duncan’s mind immediately began spinning. Was Zeille headed back to Riverview? Was Jessie still out shopping, or had she returned home?

“Can you keep Nicole?” he asked as he stood and grabbed for his coat.

“Of course,” Clara quickly agreed.

“Stay here,” he said to Nicole. “I’m going back to the house to make sure your grandmother’s all right.”

“Ian!” Nicole pleaded, her eyes wide with worry.

“You know I’ll be all right,” he whispered in her ear, giving her a quick hug. “Stay here where I know you’re safe.”

Duncan raced out the door and jumped into the Blazer. He sped through the red light, thankful there wasn’t much traffic in town, and headed for the Bed & Breakfast. When he pulled into the driveway, Zeille’s blue car was parked behind Jessie’s minivan. Duncan’s heart plummeted. He slammed the SUV into park before it had come to a complete stop, and leapt out. As he raced past the cars, he heard a gunshot.

When he rounded the minivan he saw Tom Zeille standing over Jessie, who was lying unmoving on the cold, snow-covered ground. “Noooo!” Duncan yelled, slamming into Zeille and sending him flying. Duncan grabbed the gun he’d used to shoot Jessie and smashed the butt into the side of his head. With Zeille unconscious on the ground, Duncan dropped to his knees beside Jessie and checked her over.

She was pale and losing a lot of blood from a gunshot wound to the abdomen. Duncan put pressure on it and called her name. “Jessie? Come on, Jessie, wake up,” he said. “Come on...that’s it,” he encouraged when he saw her eyes flutter. “Come on, Jessie.”

With one hand pressing against her abdomen, Duncan pulled out his cell and dialed 911. He gave them the address and details of Jessie’s injury, and then hung up despite the operator’s admonition to stay on the line. Jessie looked up at him with eyes that were already starting to glaze over.

“Ian?” she said weakly.

“Yes, Jessie, I’m right here,” Duncan said. “Just hold on.”

“I’m so cold,” she said.

“You’ll be warm in a minute,” he promised, trying to remove his coat without taking his hand off Jessie’s wound. “The ambulance is on the way. You just hold on.”

“Thank you for coming to us,” Jessie said.

“We’ll still be together,” Duncan said. “You’re going to be fine!”

“Take care of Nicole,” Jessie said, her eyes closing.

“Jessie! Jessie, no!”

“Call Adam...,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering open once more, and then closing for the last time.

“Jessie? Jessie!” Duncan called, reaching for her neck to feel for a pulse. There was none. “Jessie!” Duncan cried, and then began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

After that, things happened in a blur. The ambulance arrived and the attendants pushed him aside. But it didn’t matter, because Jessie was already dead. The police arrived and arrested Tom Zeille, who had regained consciousness while the paramedics labored over Jessie. But it didn’t matter, because Jessie was already dead. They questioned Duncan, and he told them what he could. When they started asking him the same questions over again, Duncan told them that he had to go and get Nicole.

He went into the house to wash the blood off his hands and changed his coat which was spattered with Jessie’s blood. He walked back to the diner because he was afraid to get behind the wheel and drive. When he pushed the door open, Clara and Nicole looked up at him.

“Oh, no,” Clara whispered at the look on his face.

“Where’s Grandma?” Nicole asked worriedly.

Duncan just looked at her. How could he tell her that her grandmother was dead? That he hadn’t gotten there in time? That he had failed?

“Ian?” Nicole called his name.

Duncan swallowed hard. “Nicole,” he began.

“Noooo!” she wailed, and conversation in the diner came to a halt. “No, no, no!”

Duncan reached for her, and she pounded her little fists against his chest. When she had worn herself out, she fell against him and sobbed. Duncan pulled her in close and just held her.

“I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry, little one,” he whispered into her hair as he rubbed her back.

When she had quieted Duncan helped her into her jacket, then lifted her into his arms and carried her home. He removed both of their coats, and then lit a fire in the living room. They sat in the dark, with only the firelight for company, mourning their loss. After Nicole fell asleep, Duncan laid her on the couch and covered her with a blanket, and then went in search of his cell phone.

He found it in a pocket of the bloodied coat, covered with Jessie’s blood, and walked to the back porch as he dialed Methos’ cell. Voice mail picked up the call, and Duncan left a message. “Methos,” he said, and felt his voice crack. “J-Jessie’s dead, and I just...needed to talk to you. Please call me.”

He disconnected before the sobs began. God, he hated losing people, and Jessie, though a grandmother, was too young and full of life to die; especially at the hands of someone like Tom Zeille. When he was done crying, Duncan went back in the house and joined Nicole in the living room so she wouldn’t wake up alone. He held the cell phone like a lifeline as he waited for Methos to call him back.

~*~*~*~

 _December 2, 2004  
Riverview B&B_

It was three days after Jessie died. The funeral was over and the house was filled to bursting with townsfolk. Everyone knew and loved Jessie. It was three days since Duncan called Methos and left the message about Jessie’s death, and Methos had not returned the call. Duncan didn’t know what that meant. The man had begged for forgiveness, for another chance, and now didn’t call him back over something this important?

The day after Jessie died, Clara had gone with Duncan to the funeral parlor to help him make arrangements while Belle stayed with Nicole. Duncan knew he had to contact Jessie’s attorney, Michael Westmore, to find out what was going to happen to Nicole now, but he couldn’t bring himself to make the telephone call.

He called Joe from the car to tell him about Jessie, adding that he had already alerted Methos. Joe had been very sympathetic, and offered to come out for the funeral, but Duncan knew how hard it was for him to get away from the bar on short notice, so told him not to come. Funerals were for the ones left behind, and as much as he loved Joe, Duncan needed Methos.

Needing a respite from the crowded house, Duncan was sitting on the back porch steps when Michael Westmore found him. He’d started sitting out there after his talk with Jessie, to think about Methos. Nicole was sitting between his legs on the step below him, her head resting on his thigh. Every once in a while, her tiny body would shudder.

“Ian Richards?” Michael Westmore greeted Duncan, recognizing him from Jessie’s description.

“Yes?” Duncan looked up, his hand automatically tightening on Nicole’s back.

“Michael Westmore,” he said, holding out his hand. “Jessie’s attorney.”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Westmore,” Duncan said, taking the proffered hand. “Thank you for coming.”

“Jessie was a wonderful woman,” the other man said. “I know this is a bad time, but there are some matters we need to discuss,” he told Duncan.

“Can’t it wait?” Duncan asked.

“Yes, it could. But I really think it would put your mind at ease if it didn’t. May I sit?” He indicated the porch step beside Duncan.

“Of course,” Duncan politely replied.

“Hello, Nicole,” Michael Westmore said softly as he sat, but she didn’t respond. He turned to Duncan. “Jessie liked you very much. Even more importantly, she trusted you. She trusted you with the most important thing in her life.”

“What do you mean?” Duncan asked with a frown of confusion.

“Jessie named you, Duncan MacLeod, as guardian for her granddaughter, Nicole Wright, should anything happen to her,” Mr. Westmore said.

Duncan froze. Jessie had given him Nicole. Her request that he ‘take care of Nicole’ made a lot more sense now. Wait... She had given Duncan MacLeod custody of Nicole. He turned uneasily to look at the attorney.

“Yes.” The other man gave a small smile. “She entrusted me with your identity. Said you just needed some time, and assured me that you weren’t running from the law or anything. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me; attorney-client privilege. However, for you to gain custody, you’ll have to assume your true identity,” he added.

He let that sink in before continuing. “She also left you half of Riverview and its contents; all of her other assets, including checking, savings, and investment accounts, and the minivan; and named you co-trustee of the money held in trust for Nicole.

When Duncan could speak again, he asked, “Was the other half of Riverview put in trust for Nicole?”

“No,” Mr. Westmore said. “She left it to someone named Adam Pierson.”

Duncan felt his throat close and struggled to breathe; his heart hammered in his chest. Nicole looked up at him with big blue eyes. “Does that mean Adam will come live with us?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Duncan replied breathlessly.

“I have letters from Jessie,” Mr. Westmore went on. “One for you, and one that I’m going to mail to Mr. Pierson. Jessie asked me to deliver them upon her death. She also asked me to execute her estate. Not because she didn’t trust you, but because she thought it would be quicker and easier for you.”

“That’s fine,” Duncan said. “When are you going to send Adam’s letter?”

“Today,” Mr. Westmore said.

“And mine?”

“Right here,” he said, pulling a letter out of his pocket and handing it to Duncan. It was addressed to Duncan MacLeod in Jessie’s hand. Tears came to Duncan’s eyes at the sight of her handwriting.

Mr. Westmore placed his hand on Duncan’s shoulder in an offer of support, and said, “I’ve already filed the petition. As soon as I have letters, I’ll let you know so we can put Jessie’s accounts in your name. You’ll need the money to maintain the Bed & Breakfast.”

“Yes, all right,” Duncan said, as he watched the attorney stand. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll be in touch.”

Duncan watched Michael Westmore walk back into the house, and then stuck the letter into the inside pocket of his black suit jacket to read after everyone had left. He lifted Nicole up and placed her on his lap.

“Is it okay with you that your Grandma asked me to take care of you until you’re grown up?” he asked her.

“That means you won’t leave, right?” Nicole asked.

“Right,” Duncan said. “I won’t leave. But it also means I get to tell you to eat your brussel sprouts and no ice cream before dinner.”

Nicole hesitated. “You wouldn’t really make me eat brussel sprouts, would you?”

After everyone was gone, Duncan cleaned up the house with Clara’s help, and then tucked Nicole into bed. He told her a story and sat watching her after she fell asleep. With one last touch on Nicole’s head, he went downstairs, retrieved his suit jacket, and pulled out the letter. He sat at the kitchen table and turned the envelope around in his fingers until he had worked up the courage to open it. He slit the envelope with his finger, and pulled the letter out.

> Dear Ian,
> 
> I still call you that, even though I know your real name is Duncan, because it has become familiar to me. If you are reading this letter, it means that I have died. There are so many things I want to tell you, and I probably won’t have done it while still alive. We always think we have more time, no matter if we’re 40 or 400!
> 
> I want you to know how much you mean to me. You are a very special man, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, and I thank God every day that we had the opportunity to meet you! You are kind-hearted, loyal, and strong of character. And you love totally. I’ve seen it; I’ve enjoyed basking in the warmth of your love.
> 
> You’ve brought such joy into our lives. Nicole, who was always a happy child, has blossomed under your attentions. I hope we’ve given you a bit of that back. That we made your pain a little more bearable.
> 
> If Michael gave you this letter, you know that I have named you as Nicole’s guardian. I know that you will be a wonderful father to my baby. She loves you, and I can see that you love her, also. And I pity the boy that comes calling when she starts dating! Just remember, when disciplining Nicole, DON’T look her in the eyes. You’re weak, Duncan, and they’ll get you every time!
> 
> Michael will also have told you that I’ve left Riverview to you and Adam. As I write this, I don’t know if you will have already reconciled before my death, but I do know that you should. I know what you’re thinking. That I’m an interfering old busybody. And that might be true. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong!
> 
> He loves you. And I know that you love him. A good relationship takes work. Sometimes, a lot more work than we may think it worth at the time. But as long as there is love, anything is possible. Especially compassion and forgiveness. It may not be easy, but it IS worth it. If you have not yet taken that step, then I give you this opportunity to do so. Do not waste it, my dear friend.
> 
> Tell Nicole how much I love her, and that I will be with her always. Take care of my baby, and take care of yourself. Grab this chance for happiness while you can, and don’t ever let go.
> 
> All my love,  
> Jessie

Chapter Ten

 _December 8, 2003  
Riverview B&B_

For the next week, every time Duncan answered the telephone he expected it to be Methos. If Methos wouldn’t return Duncan’s call regarding Jessie’s death, Duncan thought he would surely call when he received the attorney’s letter. In the meantime, he spent his days fixing up the house; keeping busy so he wouldn’t think about Jessie and Methos. He really hated losing people.

Duncan kept Nicole home from school on Friday, the day after the funeral, as he had done all week. On Saturday night they got two feet of snow and woke up Sunday morning to a winter wonderland. Duncan shoveled the walk, and then plowed and blew out the driveway while Nicole played in the drifts. They walked to the diner for breakfast, breaking their own trail as they did so, and then returned to Riverview to build a snowman. Nicole wrapped a scarf around its neck, and they found an old hat for its head. She named it ‘Joe’.

The following Monday, she returned to her regular schedule. When Nicole got home from school, Duncan would have a snack waiting for her, and they sat at the kitchen table and talked about their respective days. Duncan cooked supper for both of them every night that week, except for Thursday night when they went to the diner for the chicken and biscuit special. While they were there, Duncan took the opportunity to tell Clara that his real name was Duncan MacLeod, and that Jessie had named him Nicole’s guardian.

She’d looked at him in a bit of surprise. “That’s a big job,” she warned, and then smiled. “Guess you’ll be sticking around for a while, then.”

“I’ll call you when she, er, starts dating,” Duncan promised.

Clara laughed. “Oh, trust me, you’ll be calling long before then!”

Duncan looked down at Nicole in trepidation. She just smiled up at him.

That night after tucking Nicole in, Duncan tried to call Methos again. The call was once more picked up by voice mail, and Duncan left another message. “Methos, it’s Duncan. It’s been a week now since we buried Jessie. I don’t know why you didn’t return my call. I hope everything’s all right...that you’re all right. I’d like you to come out for Christmas...if you want. If you don’t, that’s fine, too, but we do need to talk...about the letter from the attorney. Please...call me.” Duncan’s voice broke at the last and he had to blink back tears as he ended the call.

Duncan disconnected, took a couple deep breaths, and called Joe. They chatted for a couple of minutes about Nicole, the bar, and the weather. Duncan told Joe that he had been named Nicole’s guardian.

“Whoa!” Joe said. “From handyman to guardian! How do you feel about that?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a father, so pretty good,” Duncan admitted. “Except for the part where Jessie had to die to make it happen.”

“I know, buddy,” Joe sympathized. “How is Nicole holding up?”

“As well as can be expected, I guess. Sometimes she clings; sometimes she cries for no apparent reason. I talk about Jessie a lot. I don’t want her to think she shouldn’t talk about her, or remember her. And she’s back at school now. I’ve had to tell some of the townspeople that my name is really Duncan MacLeod. Jessie used my real name in her Will.”

“What was their reaction to that?” Joe asked.

“Pretty understanding, actually,” Duncan replied. “How’re things at the bar?” he changed the subject.

“Swell!” Joe said. “We got a new guy on keyboard, and I had to put a part-time bartender on weekends to help out. Business is looking up.”

“That’s great, Joe,” Duncan said. “You know, we got snow over the weekend and I helped Nicole build a snowman. She named it ‘Joe’.”

“Oh, yeah?” Joe laughed. “Good, strong name, that,” he said, and then laughed again. “Man, I can just picture you building a snowman.”

“Hey, I build a mean snowman!” Duncan insisted. “Listen, Joe...if you don’t have plans for Christmas, I’d like you to come out to Riverview. You don’t have to commit now, just...think about it, okay? It would be good for Nicole to have people around. And I wouldn’t mind seeing your face.” Duncan looked up at a sudden noise. “I have to go, Joe, I think I hear Nicole. I’ll be in touch, okay?”

Duncan was jogging up the stairs as he ended the call. When he got to Nicole’s room, she was tossing in the bed and mumbling in her sleep. Duncan knelt beside the bed and gently rubbed her back.

“Shh, don’t worry, love, I’m right here,” he soothed. Nicole turned towards his voice, and quieted.

~*~*~*~

 _December 16, 2004  
Riverview B&B_

Another week went by and still Methos didn’t call. During an appointment with Michael Westmore, Duncan asked if Adam had contacted him, but the attorney hadn’t heard anything either. Duncan was losing hope that he’d hear from the other man. He vacillated between blaming Methos for being a selfish bastard and blaming himself for not being able to tell Methos that he’d give him a second chance when the older Immortal had visited Riverview in early November.

Methos had come to make sure that Duncan was all right after being shot by Zeille. He’d been worried about Duncan, and had admitted that he’d missed him; had asked for a second chance. But Duncan hadn’t given him one. Hadn’t even been able to tell Methos that he wanted to. He’d told Methos that he didn’t know if he could ever trust him again. What if Methos took him at his word?

Selfish bastard! Why in hell wasn’t he calling? If not for him, then for Nicole. Duncan wanted to throttle the other man. Kiss him and then throttle him. Or perhaps throttle him first.

Duncan decided to call Joe. He’d leave a message for Methos with the Watcher, that way he’d at least be sure that Methos had gotten it. When Joe answered the telephone, Duncan got right to the point.

“Joe, where’s Methos?” he asked.

“Helping himself to my scotch,” Joe groused. “Why?”

“Do you know why he didn’t return my calls? No, never mind. That doesn’t matter. Could you just...” Duncan had to pause to swallow the lump in his throat. “Ask him to call Mr. Westmore. Tell him to do whatever he wants - whatever he thinks is best - about the house. He doesn’t even have to talk to me, but I think it would be best for Nicole if we could get this settled. I, uh, just tell him, okay? I, um, I’ve got to go,” Duncan said, and then hung up the telephone.

His chest clutched painfully, and he briefly wondered if this was what Methos had felt like when he had deleted the other man’s telephone and e-mail messages without even listening to or reading them.

~*~*~*~

 _December 16, 2004  
Seacouver_

“Adam!” Joe stood in his office doorway and yelled for the other man across the nearly empty bar. It was late afternoon on Thursday and the evening crowd hadn’t shown up yet.

“What’s up, Joe?” Methos asked as he took a sip of the scotch he’d just poured. The University had turned the last week of his regular classes and exam preparation over to another professor and loaned him to the British Museum. He’d spent the last three weeks in London, translating a recently discovered document and taking the opportunity to meet with his financial advisors. He had just arrived back in Seacouver that afternoon. He was beat and just wanted a scotch, some food, and bed.

“Get in here, Old Man!” Joe commanded, and then turned and walked back into the office to wait for the oldest Immortal.

“Joe...,” Methos complained as he slouched in the doorway.

“Mac just called,” Joe interrupted him. “Any reason you haven’t called him?” he demanded.

“Oh, gee, Joe, I don’t know,” Methos replied sarcastically. “Could it possibly be because he doesn’t want to talk to me?”

“He said you’re not returning his calls,” Joe spit out.

“Bollocks! He hasn’t called me,” Methos retorted.

“Where’s your phone?” Joe asked.

Methos froze. “Plugged into the charger,” he admitted slowly.

“In your apartment?” Joe asked, incredulous. “You didn’t take it with you?”

“I forgot it,” Methos defended himself.

“Jesus...,” Joe swore, swiping his hand through his hair. “Then you haven’t heard the news.”

“What news?” Methos felt his heart drop at Joe’s tone.

“Jessie died. Mac’s a mess. He’s obviously been trying to get a hold of you...”

Methos turned and strode from the room. “Methos! Where are you going?” Joe called after him in irritation.

“I’m going to go check my messages,” Methos called back without stopping.

“Wait! He said something about the house,” Joe called.

“What house?” Methos stopped walking and turned back to look at Joe quizzically.

“I have no idea,” Joe admitted. “He said to tell you to do what you wanted, whatever you thought was best, that you didn’t have to talk to him, but to call someone by the name of Westmore.”

“Who in hell is Westmore?” Methos asked.

Joe shrugged.

~*~*~*~

Methos made it to his apartment building in record time. He retrieved his mail from the super and raced up the stairs. He slammed the door open, dropped his luggage in the middle of the entry, and dashed across the living room to his desk. He unplugged his phone and checked the messages. There were three, two from Duncan and one from Amanda. He erased Amanda’s, as she had gotten in touch with him in London, and then listened to Duncan’s. His stomach clenched at the unhappiness in the younger Immortal’s voice.

Methos couldn’t believe that Duncan had called him, had needed him, and he hadn’t been there. Gods, if he had just remembered his damned phone! Duncan needed him. Duncan had called him. But what in hell was the house he was talking about, and the letter from the attorney?

Methos flipped through his mail until he found an envelope from Michael Westmore, Attorney at Law. He slit it open and another envelope fell out. Adam Pierson’s name was written on the envelope. He slit that envelope and a key fell out. He picked it up, pulled the letter out, quickly unfolded it, and glanced over it. It was from Jessie.

> Dear Adam,
> 
> I’m not one to beat around the bush; if you’ve received this letter, I’m dead. I don’t know whether you and Ian, Duncan, will have resolved the issues in your relationship by this time or not, but I have done what I think is best. For Duncan, for Nicole, and for you. As I told Duncan, you may think me an interfering old woman, but that doesn’t mean I’m not right!
> 
> I have made Duncan Nicole’s guardian, and I have left Riverview to both Duncan and you. You may think this an unnecessary complication; I hope you will view it as an opportunity. Though he may not be able to say it yet, Duncan needs you. And I think you have something valuable to offer my sweet granddaughter, who thought you were pretty special.
> 
> If you do not want to retain an ownership interest in Riverview, I’m sure Duncan will purchase your share from you, but I hope that you will make my home your own. It’s a lovely place to raise a family.
> 
> With love and hope,  
> Jessie

Methos dropped his hand to his side as he assimilated all of the information he’d received that afternoon. Jessie had died. Duncan had called him when he needed to talk to someone after Jessie’s death. Jessie had left him a half-interest in Riverview. Duncan had invited him out for Christmas. Duncan thought he was ignoring his telephone calls. Duncan wanted him to do what he wanted regarding the house. Duncan had called him.

Methos dialed Duncan’s mechanic and scheduled the T-bird for service, offering the man a $100 tip if he could fit the car in the next day. He disconnected and called Joe.

“Joe’s,” Joe answered brusquely.

“Hey, Joe,” Methos said happily. “How do you feel about going to Nebraska?”

“For Christmas?” Joe asked.

“Forever,” Methos replied.

~*~*~*~

 _December 21, 2004  
Riverview B&B_

On the afternoon of Tuesday, December 21st, Methos pulled the loaded T-bird into the driveway leading to the Riverview Bed & Breakfast. He stopped the car and shifted into park. He didn’t sense Duncan’s presence. He got out of the car and strode swiftly up the walkway leading to the porch, took the steps two at a time, and knocked on the door. He tried the knob; it was locked.

He unlocked the door with the key Michael Westmore had sent him and stepped inside, listening, feeling for Duncan. When he was certain that the younger Immortal wasn’t home, he went back out to help Joe out of the car and up the ramp. Once Joe was safely on the porch, Methos unpacked the car, piling their luggage, including his laptop and Joe’s guitar, on the porch. He then moved everything from the porch to the front entry.

Moving around the house as if he already lived there, Methos started a pot of coffee. It was bloody cold in Nebraska in December! While the coffee was brewing, he started a fire in the fireplace in the living room and squatted in front of it, rubbing his hands together to get them warm. Joe stood looking out the large bay window over the front lawn.

“Here they come,” Joe said excitedly when he saw Duncan and Nicole trudging up the drive.

Methos ran for the door, yanking it open and slowing to a sedate walk as he stepped out onto the porch. Duncan looked up at him, shock filling his face, and Methos sauntered down the steps. Joe hobbled out onto the porch and waved.

“Adam! Joe!” Nicole cried out, and began to run towards them. When she reached Methos, he swung her up into his arms and twirled her about, and then set her on her feet so she could greet Joe. Methos turned his attention back to Duncan. He leaned on the front of the T-bird, crossed his arms and ankles, and waited for the younger Immortal to reach him.

~*~*~*~

When Duncan looked up from his discussion with Nicole about just how many presents should be under the Christmas tree, which remained undecorated, and saw the familiar car parked in the driveway, he couldn’t believe his eyes. And then Methos stepped out onto the porch. Duncan’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of the other man.

He saw Joe step out behind Methos and heard Nicole cry out their names as she dropped his hand and raced up the driveway. Methos picked her up and swung her around, and then put her back down so she could skip up the steps to hug Joe. Duncan wasn’t sure how he managed to keep walking; especially when Methos turned to look at him and then lounged against the car in a casually seductive pose.

“Are you here for Christmas?” he heard Nicole ask Joe.

“Yep,” Joe said.

“Did you bring any presents?” Nicole asked.

“Presents?” Joe asked.

“You didn’t bring presents?” Nicole breathed in disbelief.

“Why don’t we go inside by the fire and talk about this,” Joe suggested, seeing the looks Duncan and Methos were exchanging.

Nicole, with the hint of more presents in the air, was willing to follow him anywhere.

Duncan stopped in front of Methos and just looked at the other man. It was so good to see him. And he looked fine. He was wearing a pair of black trousers, a black sweater with a v-neck over a white t-shirt, and black boots.

“Methos,” Duncan’s voice was shaky. “What, uh, what are you doing here?” He hadn’t heard from Methos since the older Immortal left Riverview in November, and he was shocked to see him now.

“I’ve come to claim what’s mine,” Methos said, glancing briefly at the house.

“Riverview?” Duncan asked, his heart plummeting. Methos hadn’t come for him.

Methos looked back at Duncan, his lips pursed. He ran his eyes down Duncan’s body, and then back up to look into his eyes. “Among other things,” he said, and Duncan shuddered at the promise in the deep, husky tone.

“Methos,” Duncan said softly.

Methos pushed off the car. “I’m sorry about Jessie,” he said sincerely. “I would have been here if I’d known.”

“You didn’t call,” Duncan said, blinking back tears, his voice full of pain.

“I’m so sorry,” Methos said as he reached out for the other man. “I was in London, and I forgot my phone. I didn’t get your messages until I got home on Thursday. I checked them as soon as Joe told me you called.”

Duncan let Methos pull him into his arms. He wrapped his own arms around Methos’ waist and held him tight. “I thought I was too late. I thought you’d given up on me,” he said brokenly.

“Never happen, MacLeod,” Methos assured him against his neck. “I could never give up on you.”

“Methos,” Duncan whispered again. The sight and feel of the other man made him breathless and eased the burden on his spirit.

“Duncan,” Methos responded softly. He had been certain that Duncan would never give him a second chance, and was filled with joy to just be near the other man.

“I’ve missed you,” Duncan admitted.

“And I’ve missed you,” Methos said. “So much. I’m so sorry...about everything.” He felt tears burn the back of his eyes, and burrowed into Duncan.

Both men clung to each other desperately, their bodies relaxing as the hurt of lies and betrayals, the pain of separation, receded to be replaced with a gladness that lightened their hearts. Duncan pulled back and looked into Methos’ hazel eyes. He cupped the other man’s face in his palm, and then brushed his fingers through Methos’ hair.

Duncan took a deep breath and slowly let go of Methos as he stepped back. “You, uh, you kept the car,” he said, indicating the T-bird.

“Yeah,” Methos said with a nod, his voice shaky. “It was the only part of you I had left.”

“The dojo?” Duncan asked as he walked around to the side of the car, checking it over. He’d really missed his T-bird. Almost as much as he had missed the older Immortal.

“Got rid of it,” Methos replied shortly.

Duncan looked up in surprise. “You did?”

“Yeah.” Methos shrugged as if it were no big deal. “After I found out you sold the barge I realized you wouldn’t be coming back to Seacouver. There was no use holding on to it.” He looked away before Duncan could see the tears filling his eyes.

“What...who bought it?” Duncan asked.

“No one,” Methos replied. “After I moved out I talked to a couple realtors, but they didn’t think anything in that area would sell. So I donated the building to the City. They’re going to refurbish it and open something similar to a Boy’s & Girl’s Club.”

Duncan halted his perusal of the car and turned back to face Methos. “You donated it?” he asked, surprised.

Methos looked away with a shrug and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Bloody Boy Scout, who knew it wore off?’ beneath his breath.

Duncan glanced at the ground, and then back up at Methos. “After I left, I didn’t plan on ever returning to Seacouver. And I didn’t want anything that reminded me of you.” Methos jerked as the words hit home. “You hurt me. Badly,” Duncan continued.

Methos nodded dejectedly. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“But I was miserable without you,” Duncan finished, and Methos looked up hopefully. “I want you back,” Duncan said, “but it’s not going to be easy. I need to know I can trust you, Methos.”

“You can,” Methos promised. “You can. I’ll never hurt you like that again. I was miserable, too. And I’m not afraid of getting lost, not anymore, because I was lost without you. You make me...complete.”

“And that doesn’t scare you?” Duncan asked.

“Needing you this much...it scares me a little, but not as much as the thought of being without you,” Methos replied.

Duncan just stared at Methos. He’d missed him so much. Looking at him, talking to him, touching him, the feel of the older Immortal’s presence in his head. Methos fidgeted under Duncan’s gaze.

“What?” he asked nervously.

“Can I have a kiss?” Duncan asked.

“Oh, gods, yes!” Methos responded, and threw himself at the other man, pressing him back against the car. Tongues, and lips, and teeth clashed as they devoured each other, each man starving for the feel and taste of the other.

“Methos,” Duncan groaned when they pulled apart for a breath, and then Methos covered his lips once more, silencing him, claiming him. Duncan felt Methos grow hard against his thigh, and reached down to cup the other man in his hand. God, he’d missed this! He squeezed gently, and then ran his palm up the length of the other man.

~*~*~*~

Methos moaned and shifted his hips, pressing into Duncan’s hand. Having Duncan touch him again felt wonderful and he wanted this to last forever, but knew that it never would. Just the thought of what he wanted to do to the younger Immortal was enough to make him come.

With a groan he grabbed Duncan’s hand and pulled it away from himself, and with another shift of his hips their erections met. Duncan growled and reached down to grip Methos’ hip with his free hand, pulling the other man closer as he ground against him. Methos let go of Duncan’s hand and placed his own hand behind Duncan’s head, pulling him closer for another kiss.

Duncan slipped his freed hand into Methos’ hair, leaning into the kiss as they rubbed their groins together. The kiss faltered as their breaths grew quick and shallow. Methos lowered his lips to Duncan’s neck, alternately licking and sucking as he bucked against Duncan, working himself towards orgasm. He cut off his scream of release by biting down on Duncan’s neck. He heard Duncan cry out, and felt the other man shudder against him, as he too climaxed.

“Gods,” Methos mumbled, when he could speak again. “That was...okay, quick, but bloody fantastic,” he panted. “I don’t think I can stand...”

Duncan caught Methos as he started to slide to the ground. “Stay on your feet, Old Man,” he said. “If we both end up down there, we’ll never get back up.”

“And that would be bad because?” Methos asked, raising one eyebrow and trying to leer seductively, the effect ruined by his slurred voice.

“Uh, snow?” Duncan suggested.

“Oh, right,” Methos quickly agreed.

Chapter Eleven

 _December 21, 2004  
Riverview B&B_

Methos slipped his arm around Duncan’s waist as they made their way to the sidewalk and up the porch steps.

“You trying to hug me, or burrow under my coat?” Duncan asked.

“I’m cold!” Methos whined. “You didn’t tell me it was this cold when you invited me to come out.”

“When did I invite you to come out?” Duncan teased.

“You asked me to come out for Christmas,” Methos reminded him. “Change your mind?”

“Christmas?” Duncan frowned. “So you, uh, you’re just here for Christmas?”

“No,” Methos said. “I’m here to do whatever I want about the house, like you said I should.”

“And that is?” Duncan prompted.

“I think I want to live in it,” Methos replied. “Got enough room for two more?”

“Well.” Duncan thought for a second. “Rooms are scarce. We might have to share.”

Methos smiled. “It’s a hardship,” he said. “But I’ll manage to forbear.”

“Good of you to be so...compliant,” Duncan responded sarcastically.

“Oh, I can be very flexible,” Methos breathed against Duncan’s neck.

“I know,” Duncan groaned. “I remember... Wait, what do you mean, two?”

“Couldn’t leave Joe alone in Seacouver, could I?” Methos asked as he pulled away from Duncan and pushed the front door open.

Nicole and Joe were playing ‘Go Fish’ in the living room, steaming cups of hot chocolate within easy reach. “We’re going to carry some of this luggage upstairs,” Duncan said to the room at large, “and then we’ll have supper. What are you in the mood for, Nic?” he asked.

“Hot dogs,” she said without looking up from her cards.

“Hot dogs?” Duncan repeated in dismay.

“Yeah, brown, like I like ‘em,” she added, and then looked up at Joe. “Got any threes?” she asked.

“Hot dogs,” Duncan muttered, grabbing a couple of Methos’ bags and leading the way up the stairs to the bedroom he was using. “It’s kind of small,” he apologized as he set the bags down. “Only has a double bed,” he added nervously.

Methos set the bags he was carrying beside the pile Duncan had made. He pushed the door shut behind him, turned the lock, and stepped up to the younger Immortal. “It only matters that you’re here,” he said, wrapping his arms around Duncan’s middle and pulling the other man back against him.

Gods, he’d dreamt about this; waited for it for so long. Hoped for it. He found himself already needing to touch the other man again; to prove that he was here; that they were finally together again.

Duncan let his head fall back to rest on Methos’ shoulder as the other man slipped his hand beneath Duncan’s sweatshirt and tugged his t-shirt out of his jeans. Duncan moaned as Methos tormented him by tickling his stomach and rubbing, pinching his nipples. He groaned as Methos’ other hand slipped beneath the waistband of his jeans.

Methos encountered the cooling proof of his and Duncan’s earlier activities by the car, and dragged his hand through it before wrapping his fingers around Duncan’s soft penis. He gently pulled at the flesh, and pinched the tip.

“Methos!” Duncan cried as his groin responded to Methos’ ministrations.

“Take your shirts off,” Methos commanded, his voice low and husky. Duncan grabbed both hems and pulled them off together.

“Unfasten your jeans,” Methos ordered, biting Duncan’s earlobe as his hands continued to torture Duncan. Duncan couldn’t get his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped fast enough. He slid them down his hips without being told. “Good boy,” Methos growled in his ear.

“Methos,” Duncan groaned, bucking his hips, pressing his growing erection into Methos’ hand. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

“I’m not going to stop, Duncan,” Methos promised, and then bit Duncan’s shoulder. He slid his other hand down Duncan’s chest and stomach, coating his fingers with the creamy fluid. “I’m not going to stop until you’re mine again,” he rasped.

“Spread yourself for me,” Methos breathed. Duncan reached back and spread his buttocks. Methos placed his lubricated fingers at the entrance to Duncan’s body, and Duncan nearly whimpered.

“Do you want this?” Methos asked huskily.

“Yes,” Duncan’s voice was hoarse with need.

“Tell me,” Methos said, running his finger around the puckered hole, pressing teasingly.

“Please, Methos,” Duncan pleaded. “I want this. I need this. I need you. Please!”

“You beg so good.” Methos’ voice made Duncan’s toes curl, and then the other man slipped one finger inside him, and Duncan cried out at the sensation. He had missed this. He wanted and needed Methos; in his life, and in his body. This felt so right, and he wasn’t sure how he’d lasted so long without the other man.

“Methos, please. Please touch me. Fuck me,” Duncan begged.

Methos stroked Duncan’s cock as he pulled his finger out and slid two back in, as aware as Duncan that his begging made Methos more frantic, less in control. Duncan groaned at the intrusion, and then pushed back until Methos’ fingers were deep inside him. Methos twisted his hand and let his fingers brush Duncan’s prostate, and Duncan cried out as a jolt shot straight to his penis.

Methos pulled his fingers back, scissoring them to stretch Duncan, and then slid them back in to touch the nub. He alternated the stretching and the touching again, and again, until Duncan was writhing on his fingers, pressing back against his hand, jerking his hips to slide his cock into the hand curled around it.

“What do you want?” Methos ask, his voice low and deep and urgent.

“You!” Duncan cried. “I want - need - you inside me. Now. Methos, please,” Duncan pleaded as he continued to fuck himself on and in Methos’ hands.

“Undo my pants,” Methos ordered desperately, no longer able to tease Duncan as his own erection demanded attention.

Duncan let go of his buttocks and fumbled behind himself with the fastenings on Methos’ trousers. When they were finally undone, he pushed the other man’s pants and boxers down his hips, freeing the erection that bobbed against his ass.

“Hold on,” Methos warned as he withdrew his fingers from Duncan’s body. Duncan grabbed for the board at the foot of the bed and spread his legs as far as his jeans would allow. Methos coated his palm with the remaining semen and lubricated his cock, then placed the head against Duncan’s opening, and pushed.

Duncan groaned as Methos’ head breached the ring of muscle, and then began to pant when Methos didn’t move. “Methos, please!” he cried, and Methos grabbed his hip and held him steady as he pressed the rest of the way in.

“Oh, God,” Duncan moaned as Methos filled him.

When he was fully seated in Duncan, Methos paused, savoring the feel of him. “You feel so good,” he whispered. “I missed this. I missed you.”

“Yes!” Duncan agreed with everything Methos had said. “More!”

Methos pulled out, and slid slowly back in. “I want to remember how you feel,” he said as he slowly fucked the other man.

“Oh...ohhh!” Duncan moaned. The feel of Methos slowly moving in and out of him and the words he spoke made him burn. The soft brush of Methos’ penis against his prostate kept Duncan on the edge of coming.

“Methos, you’re killing me!” Duncan cried.

“You can’t die, Duncan,” Methos said distractedly. The feel of Duncan tight around him was like heaven.

“If you do not fuck me, Methos, I will...”

“What’s the matter, Duncan?” Methos asked with fake solicitousness. “You want to come?”

“Yes, dammit!” Duncan roared.

“Okay,” Methos agreed. With a look of ecstacy, Methos eagerly increased his pace until he was pounding into the other man.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Duncan chanted.

“You’re mine,” Methos leaned over Duncan’s back and growled in his ear.

“Yes! Ahh!” Duncan cried when he finally fell over the edge. His body exploded, and bright lights went off behind his eyes.

Methos felt Duncan’s penis pulse in his hand, felt the warm wet fluid cover it, and then felt his internal muscles contract around him. With one, two more thrusts, Methos’ body stiffened as he came, erupting inside Duncan, filling him with his essence, his very being.

Methos fell forward onto Duncan’s back, and the younger man was only able to keep them upright by gripping the footboard and locking his elbows and knees. “Methos,” he rasped, “we’re going to fall if you don’t move. I can’t hold us up much longer.”

“I like your back,” Methos mumbled, and then licked Duncan between his shoulder blades.

“Get off me before I drop you on your ass.” Duncan shook his shoulders, trying to dislodge Methos.

“What is it with you and knocking me on my bum?” Methos whined. “You’ve got a mean streak.” He grabbed Duncan’s hips and gently withdrew from the other man. Duncan stood up with a groan and turned, pulling Methos against him and kissing him - rough, hard, and deep.

“I love you, Methos,” he whispered fiercely.

“I know, Duncan,” Methos smiled. “I love you, too.”

“Nice pants,” Duncan said with a grin, and then kicked his jeans off and padded to the bathroom in his stocking feet. “Shower?” He glanced at Methos over his shoulder.

“Hmm?” Methos, who had been studying the way the muscles in Duncan’s ass bunched as he moved, responded.

Duncan grinned knowingly. “Shower?” he repeated, and then disappeared into the bathroom, indulging Methos’ ass fetish.

~*~*~*~

Duncan got the hotdogs out of the freezer and placed them in a bowl of water to thaw while he whipped up some macaroni and cheese. As he boiled water to cook the macaroni, and heated milk to melt the cheese, Methos carried Joe’s bags to the downstairs room the other man had used during their last visit.

While Duncan stirred the macaroni and cheese together and placed it in the oven to bake, Methos cooked up some chocolate pudding he found in the cupboards, poured it in bowls, and put it in the refrigerator to cool, and then whipped heavy cream, vanilla, and sugar together to top it.

After they’d eaten, Duncan told Nicole it was time for her to take her bath and get ready for bed.

“Can’t I stay up just a little bit longer?” she wheedled.

“It’ll be past your bedtime by the time your bath is done,” Duncan said. “We’re eating late tonight.”

“Whose fault is that?” Joe muttered knowingly.

“Can Adam give me my bath?” Nicole asked, and Duncan saw Methos startle.

“That’s a great idea, Nic,” Duncan said. “Adam gives wonderful baths.”

Nicole slid off the chair and walked around the table to Methos, holding out her hand. “You can tell me a story, too,” she said happily.

“Of course.” Methos nodded, as he rose to his feet. ‘Thanks a lot!’ he mouthed to Duncan over her head, causing the younger man to grin unrepentantly.

While Methos was giving Nicole a bath, Duncan and Joe cleaned up the kitchen, and then Joe went to his room to rest. He was tired from the long days of driving and sleeping in motels. Duncan, dressed only in jeans and a t-shirt, pulled on a quilted flannel shirt and went out on the back porch to sit on the steps.

He was contemplating the sudden turn his life had taken when he sensed Methos’ presence. “Isn’t it a little cold to be sitting out here?” Methos asked.

“Hey.” Duncan smiled at the other man over his shoulder. “I used to sit out here and think about you,” he admitted.

Methos moved to sit down beside him, and Duncan reached up and took his hand. “Here,” he said, tugging at Methos to settle the other man between his legs on the step below him. Duncan wrapped his arms around the other man’s chest and leaned forward to kiss the back of his neck.

“I missed you so much,” Duncan acknowledged. “But I couldn’t bring myself to admit that to you. As if it would make me weak for needing you when you’d hurt me so badly.”

Methos leaned back against Duncan’s chest and squeezed his arm. He tilted his head to the side and looked up at the other man. “And now?” he asked.

Duncan cupped Methos’ face and lowered his lips to the older Immortal’s, kissing him gently. “You complete me, too,” Duncan said.

Methos placed his hand behind Duncan’s neck and deepened the kiss. “This is very nice,” he whispered. “But Nicole is waiting for a goodnight kiss.”

“Mmm,” Duncan groaned in disappointment. “Meet me by the fireplace?” he asked, waggling his brows suggestively.

“You’re insatiable,” Methos teased.

“Just making up for lost time,” Duncan replied. “It’s my turn to claim what I want. Hope you weren’t planning on being able to walk tomorrow.” He bit Methos’ earlobe, and the older Immortal shuddered.

“Promises, promises,” he said, and then stood, pulling Duncan to his feet. They walked into the house, and Duncan locked the door. He took off the flannel shirt and hung it up, and then went upstairs to tuck Nicole in while Methos headed for the living room.

Nicole was lying in bed talking to her doll when Duncan arrived. “Ian,” she greeted him.

“Nicole, love,” Duncan said with a smile as he knelt beside her bed.

“Can I call you ‘Duncan’?” she asked seriously.

“Of course you can call me Duncan, sweetheart,” Duncan said.

“I mean, I like Ian, but it’s not really your name, right?” she asked.

“Right,” Duncan agreed.

“How come you used a different name?” Nicole asked.

“I was hiding,” Duncan said. “I didn’t want to be found.”

“From Adam?” Nicole asked, and for the hundredth time Duncan made note of her perceptiveness.

“Yes, I was hiding from Adam.”

“But you want to be found now?” Nicole asked.

“Yes,” Duncan agreed with a smile. “I want to be found.”

“And Adam found you, right?”

“Yes, Adam found me.”

“He’s smart, isn’t he?” she asked.

“Well, if you ask him...,” Duncan said, sensing Methos’ presence behind him.

“Duncan’s a nice name,” Nicole allowed.

“Thank you.” Duncan couldn’t help but grin at her.

“Did you and Adam kiss and make up?” Nicole asked innocently, and Duncan nearly choked.

“What, uh, what makes you ask that?” he asked, wide-eyed.

“When Samantha and I had a fight, Grandma told us to kiss and make up,” Nicole said sagely.

“Oh.” Duncan nodded. “Yes, Adam and I, uh, kissed and made up. Do you need a bedtime story?” he changed the subject.

“No, Adam already told me a story,” Nicole yawned.

“He did? Was it good?”

“Oh, yes,” Nicole said. “It was about a prince and his ad-, adsor, his helper,” she said.

“Really?” Duncan asked suspiciously.

“Yes. The prince was very handsome, and the helper was very wise.”

“I’ll bet,” Duncan drawled sarcastically. “All right.” He smoothed her hair and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “You go to sleep, love, and have pleasant dreams.”

“‘Night, Duncan,” Nicole said around another yawn.

“Goodnight, Nicole,” Duncan said as he stood. Just as he reached the door, Nicole spoke again.

“When you kissed and made up, did you touch tongues?”

Duncan froze, a look of horror on his face. He was so not ready for this kind of a discussion. And by the look on Methos’ face, neither was he. “What, uh, what do you mean?” he asked, stalling for time.

“I saw Belle kiss a boy once. He stuck his tongue in her mouth. It looked gross,” Nicole said. “Yuck!” Her entire body shuddered.

“You’re right,” Duncan said. “It’s gross. Don’t ever do that.”

“‘Kay,” Nicole said, snuggling back down into her blankets.

Duncan pushed Methos out into the hall, and the other Immortal slowly licked his lips. “Gross, huh?” he teased.

“Shut up, Methos,” Duncan hissed. “Just wait until she’s sixteen!”

Chapter Twelve

 _December 21, 2004  
Riverview B&B_

Methos took Duncan’s hand and led him back down to the living room. Blankets had been thrown on the floor in front of the fire, and two tumblers of scotch waited on the hearth.

“Cozy,” Duncan said appreciatively.

“It’ll get cozier,” Methos promised, pulling Duncan down onto the blankets and handing him one of the drinks. He held his glass up for a toast. “To us,” he said.

“To love,” Duncan countered.

“To second chances,” Methos added softly.

“To forever,” Duncan said.

“To all of that,” Methos agreed, and the two men clinked glasses and sipped the scotch. “Come here.” Methos set his glass down and pulled Duncan’s head down into his lap. He removed the clasp and began the process of finger-combing his hair. Methos could happily sit like this always, running his fingers through Duncan’s long, silky hair.

Duncan closed his eyes and, with a deep breath, relaxed. Methos could feel the tension draining out of the younger Immortal, and he continued to play with the luxurious tresses. He knew that Duncan loved to have him touch his hair as much as he did himself; enjoying the mutual easing of anxiety; the giving and receiving of comfort.

~*~*~*~

Duncan woke up hours later, noting that the fire had died down. Methos, asleep beside him, held him in his arms. Duncan rose onto his elbow and took the opportunity to study his lover. Bangs fell over his forehead and long lashes brushed his cheeks. Methos looked so innocent in sleep, Duncan shook his head, but could be so frustrating and irritating awake.

He let his eyes roam over the other man’s body. The slouched posture he adopted when awake made him look deceptively soft, but his hard, tight body wasn’t hidden in sleep. Duncan ran his hand over Methos’ biceps and down his forearm to his long fingers. He placed his palm over Methos’ breast, and gently drew it down his side to his hip.

Dragging his hand back up Methos’ body, Duncan slipped his fingers beneath the t-shirt the older Immortal wore and let his fingers wander over the sleep-warmed skin of his abdomen. Duncan’s groin responded to his tactile perusal of Methos’ body as his fingers sought the other man’s nipple, brushing it with his thumb.

He felt Methos’ nipple harden into a tight nub, and then pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. Methos gasped as his body jerked beneath Duncan’s hand. He reached up to take a strand of Duncan’s hair in his hand.

“Awake now, are we?” Methos groaned as Duncan moved his attentions to his other nipple.

“Mmm,” Duncan responded, before lowering his face to Methos’ neck. Methos tilted his head to give him better access and Duncan buried his face in the other man’s neck, breathing in the scent of him. His fingers continued to tease Methos’ nipple as he licked the tender skin.

~*~*~*~

Duncan pressed his growing erection against Methos’ thigh as he sucked the sensitive skin of his neck into his hungry mouth and rolled his nipple between his eager fingers. Methos moaned and bucked his hips. Duncan’s touch was driving him crazy.

“Duncan,” he said pleadingly.

“Problem, Methos?” Duncan teased.

“Yes,” Methos groaned. “Touch me, damn you,” he demanded.

“I am.” Duncan pinched his nipple to prove it.

“Ahh!” Methos jerked again. “Duncan, please... Oh, gods, yes!” he cried as Duncan cupped him through his jeans.

“Satisfied?” he whispered in Methos’ ear.

“Not yet, but you’re on the right track,” Methos replied breathlessly as Duncan slid his hand between Methos’ thighs and cupped his balls.

“Yes,” Methos groaned as he lifted his hips, pressing himself into Duncan’s hand. Duncan squeezed gently, and Methos’ eyes rolled back in his head. Gods, he couldn’t get enough of the Scot. He’d missed him so much over the last eight months; dreamt of this - being forgiven, being together - but the reality of it was so much better than the dream. “Duncan...”

“Take your shirt off,” Duncan interrupted him, releasing Methos’ balls and rising up onto his knees. He grabbed Methos’ arms to pull him up off the floor, grasped the hem of the t-shirt, and lifted it. Methos raised his arms and Duncan pushed the t-shirt up and over his head, tangled it around his wrists, and pressed him back down onto the blankets, then spread out beside him.

Duncan looked down at Methos, arms trapped above his head, hair tousled, eyes dark with desire, breaths coming faster, and grinned. He ran the fingers of his other hand over Methos’ cheek and jaw, down his neck and along his shoulder, and then down to his arm pit. Methos squirmed, and Duncan moved his fingers down his side until he reached the other man’s waistband.

He drew his fingers over Methos’ abdomen, watching as the muscles jumped at his touch, and then ran his thumb around and into his navel. He dragged his nails up Methos’ stomach and chest, and then over a nipple.

“Duncan!” Methos finally broke his silence when Duncan scraped his nipple.

Duncan ignored the other man, continuing to touch the silken skin beneath his fingers as he lowered his head to Methos’ chest, placing his lips against the nipple he’d just abraded. He rubbed his lips over it, and then let the tip of his tongue press against it, before sucking it into his mouth and gently closing his teeth on it.

“Christ, Duncan,” Methos groaned as Duncan moved his lips to the older Immortal’s other nipple and treated it to the same.

As he sucked, Duncan pressed the heel of his hand against Methos’ denim-covered erection and let his fingers gently massage his balls. Methos bucked in surprise, and then moaned, the sensation of Duncan’s mouth on his nipple and hand on his cock making him ache and burn for more.

Duncan ran his tongue down Methos’ body to his navel, and then sucked on his stomach as his fingers tugged at the button, and then slipped the zip of Methos’ jeans. He lowered his face and rubbed his cheek against the hard flesh covered by the thin cotton of his boxers, and then took the shaft in his mouth and sucked on it. He gently scraped his teeth over it as he lifted his head to look into Methos’ eyes.

Methos’ heart was beating erratically, his breath coming in pants. He stared wildly at Duncan as the other man wrapped his fingers around the elastic of Methos’ boxers and pulled them down, exposing his erection. Methos groaned as a feral gleam lit Duncan’s eyes. The other man lowered his head and licked a line up Methos’ length of hard flesh, and then twirled his tongue around the ridge.

“Duncan, please,” Methos pleaded.

Duncan lifted his head and blew his hot breath on Methos’ erection, and watched as it bobbed in response, lifting towards his mouth as if it knew what awaited it there. Duncan smiled at the reaction and his arousal increased. He licked over the head and then pulled it into his mouth.

“Oh, gods, yes!” Methos encouraged, and then groaned in disappointment when Duncan pulled away and sat up.

“Jeans,” Duncan said, gripping the waistband with both hands. Methos lifted his butt, and Duncan tugged the jeans down over his hips and legs. Methos disentangled himself from the t-shirt around his wrists and tossed it away. Duncan threw Methos’ jeans and boxers behind him, and then pulled his socks off.

Methos sat up and reached out with newly freed hands, tugging Duncan’s shirt out of his jeans and sliding his hands beneath it to skim over the other man’s stomach. “Duncan,” he breathed as Duncan moved closer and lowered his head, pressing his lips to Methos’. The older Immortal parted his lips to Duncan’s tongue, and Duncan groaned at the acquiescence. They separated only to allow Methos to remove Duncan’s shirt, and then came together again.

The kiss was heated, reflecting their respective states of arousal. While Duncan explored and claimed Methos’ mouth, Methos’ hands worked Duncan’s button and zipper, then slid his jeans down over his hips. Duncan helped Methos remove his jeans, boxers, and socks, and then moved between the older Immortal’s legs.

He urged Methos back, and Methos reclined to rest on his elbows, watching eagerly as Duncan lowered his head to his straining erection. Methos’ head fell back as Duncan took him into his mouth, one hand cupping and kneading his balls as the fingers of the other pressed against his perineum, and then circled the puckered skin below it.

“Jesus, Duncan,” Methos groaned, gripping the younger Immortal’s long hair with one hand as he continued to brace himself with the other. He ran his fingers through Duncan’s hair as the other man sucked him; bringing him to the edge with his skillful touch on his heavy sac and anus.

And then Methos’ balls tightened as his seed rushed into his penis. His body stiffened and his cock pulsed, his orgasm exploding into Duncan’s mouth. Methos watched through half-lidded eyes as Duncan swallowed his ejaculate, and then sucked and licked him clean before letting his softened penis slip from his lips.

~*~*~*~

Duncan looked up at Methos, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light. “On your knees,” he commanded.

“Duncan, I can’t...,” Methos began breathlessly.

“Now,” Duncan growled, and Methos’ body reacted to the look in his eyes, the sound of his voice.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, and rolled to his knees.

Duncan barely waited for him to assume the position before he placed his hands on the round, firm globes of Methos’ ass and squeezed. “I’ve missed your ass,” he said, his voice husky with suppressed desire as he lowered his lips to the tempting globes, licking and sucking across them, leaving a trail of red marks. He wanted to thrust into the hole so tantalizingly close to his face, but forced himself to move slowly.

Duncan nipped at Methos’ buttocks, and then lifted his head. This would be a claiming Methos would not soon forget. He spread Methos’ cheeks and ran his tongue along his cleft, and then pressed the flat of his tongue against the other man’s perineum and wiggled it. Methos moaned. Duncan dragged his tongue upwards and pressed the very tip against the puckered hole.

“Duncan,” Methos groaned, and tried to press back. Duncan grabbed his hips to still him, and then fluttered his tongue against the opening. Methos cried out wordlessly as Duncan alternately pressed the tip of his tongue into the hole and fluttered his tongue over it. “Dammit, Duncan!” Methos exploded. “Fuck me!”

Methos reached for his cock, and Duncan slapped his hand. “No touching,” he warned, and then returned his attention to Methos’ ass. He pressed his tongue against the puckered opening, and then pushed past the ring of muscle. He felt Methos’ body straining in his hands, desperate for more. He pushed his tongue inside Methos’ body as far as he could reach, and then wiggled it.

“Oh gods,” Methos groaned. Duncan pulled back, and then pushed in. Then back, and in. “Oh gods, oh gods,” Methos chanted, nearly incoherent with his arousal. Duncan had the most talented tongue. And then his teeth were pressing against Methos’ opening as his tongue fluttered against his internal walls, the pleasure of it enough to stop his heart.

Duncan pulled all the way out and placed soft bites on Methos’ ass, moving closer and closer to the hole he’d just vacated. He alternated gentle bites and swipes of the tongue, and then entered Methos again, moving his tongue in and out of the other man, fucking him with his tongue. Methos’ balls tightened, his muscles strained, his back arched, and he erupted in climax.

Without waiting for Methos to recover, Duncan covered his fingers with the warm fluid Methos had spilled on the blanket, and placed them against Methos’ wet hole. He pressed one finger inside, and Methos came back to life as Duncan twisted his hand, coating the passage with the slippery cream, and then reached for Methos pleasure spot.

“Fuck! Duncan, are you trying to kill me?” Methos asked as an electric jolt ran into his penis.

“Just reminding you who you belong to,” Duncan growled. “Do you remember, Methos?” he asked as he pulled his finger out and inserted two. “Do you?” Duncan spread the cooling fluid inside Methos, and then pressed in until he brushed Methos’ prostate.

Methos howled into the blanket. “Yes! I remember!” he cried.

“Who?” Duncan asked, as he pulled back and scissored his fingers to stretch the hole, and then again reached for Methos’ nub.

“You!” Methos repeated. “You, Duncan, you!” he was rambled as his cock filled once again. “Duncan, please...”

Duncan could wait no longer. He wiped the remaining fluid from his hand to his hard shaft, and then pressed the head of his cock against Methos’ hole. He pushed until the head breached the ring of muscle, and then paused. Methos impatiently pushed back, and grunted as Duncan filled him.

Duncan gripped Methos’ hips to keep him still, then closed his eyes and tipped his head back. “Methos,” he breathed. “You feel so good; so tight, and warm. So fucking tight!” He pulled out and thrust back in, and then did it again.

“You’re mine,” Duncan said as he shifted his hips and thrust again. Methos cried out once more as Duncan hit the spot he’d been aiming for. “Mine,” he repeated, driving into him again.

“Yours,” Methos moaned as he gripped the blankets beneath him and rocked back.

“Mine.” Duncan pumped rhythmically into Methos’ ass, rubbing over his prostate with each thrust.

“Yes! Duncan, yes, yours,” Methos rasped as he moved with Duncan, forcing him deeper with each thrust. “Yours, yours...oh gods.” Methos’ balls tightened again and he shuddered as his cock pulsed, spurting what little semen was left in him onto the blanket to join that previously spilt.

Duncan felt Methos’ body tremble beneath his hands as the other man’s internal muscles clench around his cock. He bit his lip to keep from howling when he felt his balls rise, his penis fill. His cock jerked once, and then again, and again, as he erupted inside Methos, filling the tight passage with his fluid.

He fell forward onto Methos’ back, and bore them both to the blanket. He slipped out of Methos in a rush of semen and the other man groaned. Duncan buried his face in the back of Methos’ neck.

“Mine,” he whispered, punctuating it with a kiss.

“Yours,” Methos agreed, and then turned in Duncan’s arms. “Mine.” he said, pressing his forehead against Duncan’s.

“Oh, yes,” Duncan agreed. “Yours.” He kissed the other man softly, and then pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him. He reached for the edge of the blankets and tugged them over them both. “I should have done that sooner,” he murmured.

“Mmm,” Methos agreed. “What time is it?” he asked suddenly, startling Duncan. The younger man twisted his head and looked at the clock over the mantle.

“Just after eleven,” he said. “I can’t believe I fell asleep on you so early.”

“You were tired,” Methos soothed, running his hand over Duncan’s smooth, muscular back. “It’s been a rough couple weeks.”

“It’s been a rough couple months,” Duncan said softy.

“Yeah,” Methos added, snuggling into Duncan’s embrace. “I don’t want to go through that again.”

“Me neither,” Duncan said, and placed a kiss on the top of Methos’ head.

“Oh!” Methos said with a jerk. “Happy birthday, Duncan.”

“Huh?”

“Happy birthday,” Methos repeated.

“Birthday?” Duncan repeated stupidly. “My birthday?” He thought for a minute. “I didn’t even realize what day it was. Oh...heck! That means Christmas is just four days away,” he muttered. They lay together in companionable silence for a few moments before Duncan spoke again. “Thank you, Methos.”

“For what?” Methos asked tiredly.

“For being here,” Duncan said, closing his eyes and burying his face in Methos’ hair.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad...I’m glad you want me here,” Methos choked out.

“I do,” Duncan assured him. “Always.”

~*~*~*~

 _December 22, 2004  
Riverview B&B_

Duncan managed to wake up before the rest of the household the next morning. He maneuvered a complaining Methos up the stairs and into the bathroom. He wiped the dried semen off his body with a warm, wet cloth, wondering how he’d gotten so covered before remembering that Methos had slept in the wet spot. Duncan grinned to himself as he tucked Methos into bed, and then took a shower.

He had the living room cleaned up and breakfast started before he had to wake Nicole for school. He hadn’t felt this energized in...months, he thought. The smell of coffee and cooking bacon brought Joe out of his room, and Duncan handed the fork to the other man, leaving him in charge of the bacon so he could get Nicole up and dressed.

Joe rubbed his hand over his face, trying to wipe away the sleep, and blearily accepted the fork. Duncan patted Joe on the back, and then left the kitchen. Nicole was already awake when Duncan reached her room. She was looking through her closet, her hand on her hip. “I need some new clothes,” she told Duncan.

“Really?” Duncan asked. “Why’s that?”

“I wanted to dress up today.” She sighed sadly.

“What about your black pants?” Duncan asked, remembering the stretchy pants she’d worn with a purple sweater and her tiny black boots.

Nicole sighed again. “I wanted to wear a dress.”

“I thought you didn’t like dresses,” Duncan said, confused.

“It’s a very special day,” Nicole explained patiently.

“It is?” Duncan asked. “Why?”

“Because Adam and Joe are here now,” she said, and gave Duncan a look.

“You don’t have to dress up for that,” Duncan protested.

“You did,” Nicole said.

“No I didn’t!” Duncan denied.

“Yes, you did,” Nicole responded.

“No...”

Nicole pointed to the green silk shirt Duncan was wearing. “You said that you couldn’t wear that shirt to work in,” she told him. “You said it was for good.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean...” Duncan faltered as Nicole just stared at him. “Why don’t we just find something for you to wear today?” he said, changing the subject and turning his attention to her closet. He pulled out the black stretch pants he’d had in mind, and a white peasant blouse embroidered with blue flowers, with long sleeves ruffled at the end, and an elastic neckline. “How about this?” he asked.

Nicole wrinkled her nose as she contemplated the outfit.

“Hurry,” Duncan said. “Joe’s making breakfast.”

“Joe’s awake?” Nicole asked excitedly. Duncan nodded and Nicole grabbed the clothes out of his hand. She threw her pajamas off and quickly dressed. “I need socks,” she announced as she pulled the shirt on over her head.

Duncan got her socks and boots out, and retrieved the hairbrush as Nicole finished dressing. He carefully pulled the brush through her hair, and then braided it. “Is Adam up yet?” she asked.

“No,” Duncan replied as he concentrated on the braid. “He’s still sleeping.”

“Can I say goodbye?” Nicole asked.

Duncan grinned at the thought of Nicole waking Methos up. “I think he’d like that,” he said.

After she washed her face, Nicole led Duncan out of her bedroom. “Where is he?” she asked.

“Uh...” Duncan blanched. He hadn’t thought about explaining why Methos was sleeping in his bedroom. “The, uh, room at the end of the hall,” he stammered.

“Your room?” Nicole asked, unfazed.

“Yeah,” Duncan said.

Nicole raced ahead of him and pushed the door open, then disappeared inside. When Duncan reached the doorway, Nicole was bouncing on the bed and Methos was protesting futilely.

“MacLeod!” Methos called.

“You called?” Duncan replied.

“I’m being attacked.” He pouted. Nicole giggled.

“It’s time for breakfast,” she said.

“I don’t do breakfast.” Methos tried to bury his head under the pillow.

Nicole lifted up a corner of the pillow and placed her head under it. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” her muffled voice reached Duncan.

“Are you a Girl Scout?” Methos asked suspiciously.

“No!” Nicole giggled again. “What’s a Girl Scout?”

Chapter Thirteen

 _December 22, 2004  
Riverview B&B_

After Nicole left for school, Duncan cleaned up the breakfast remains while Joe showered and Methos sprawled at the table with a cup of coffee held between his hands. Duncan paused in rinsing a plate and glanced over at Methos.

“We need to talk,” he said.

Methos froze. “About what?” he asked, swallowing hard. Things had gone so well yesterday, maybe too well.

“Riverview,” Duncan said. “Do you want to continue running it as a Bed & Breakfast?”

Methos sighed in relief. “What are our choices?” he asked.

Duncan shrugged. “Run it, close the business and just live here, sell it and move...”

“It’s an awfully small town,” Methos tested the waters. “No bookstores.”

“The people are friendly,” Duncan said, extolling the virtues of staying at Riverview. “I haven’t been challenged once since moving here. And there is too a bookstore. Granted, it’s small. No rare manuscripts or first editions. But if they don’t have something you want, and it’s available, Nora’ll order it for you. Or you could always order books online. Besides, Nicole just started school, and she’s lived here all her life...,” he babbled.

“What’s involved in running a Bed & Breakfast?” Methos asked, interrupting him.

Duncan shrugged again and gave Methos a sheepish smile. “I’m just the handyman,” he said.

“So we’d have to learn as we go?” Methos asked with a raised eyebrow.

Duncan nodded. “We don’t have to. I know there are already some reservations, but we could call them and cancel, I’m sure they’d understand...”

Methos rose from the table and moved over to Duncan, who was still leaning against the sink, nervously wringing the dishcloth between his hands. “Why don’t we run it for a year and see how it goes?” he suggested.

Duncan nodded, and blinked back sudden tears. “Okay,” he said, sounding relieved to have that decision made.

“Duncan?” Methos reached out for the other man.

“Oh, Methos.” Duncan grabbed the other man and kissed his face. “I’m so glad you’re here. Christ, I’ve missed you.”

“Me too,” Methos said, holding Duncan and rubbing his back soothingly.

“Everything’s just... I wasn’t sure I could handle this. Losing Jessie so soon after losing you, and trying to raise Nicole. I don’t think I could do it alone,” he whispered.

“You won’t have to,” Methos promised.

~*~*~*~

After the dishes were washed, dried, and put away, Duncan showed Methos the things he’d done around the house, and then took him outside to show him around the property while Joe snuck into the kitchen and scoured the cupboards for the ingredients to bake a cake.

When they returned to the house, Methos found the letter from Michael Westmore and, perched on a corner of the small ornamental desk in the living room, called the attorney’s office from the telephone there. He told the lawyer that ‘Adam Pierson’ was accepting the bequest and, after being placed on speaker phone, Michael told Methos and Duncan that he’d have the transfer papers drawn up and they could come in to sign them after the New Year. Methos hung up the telephone and looked around the living room.

“That tree looks a little sad.” He noted the drooping evergreen in the corner.

Duncan followed his gaze to the tree he’d helped Jessie purchase just before her death. “Yeah,” he said, glancing at the floor, and then back up at Methos. “I didn’t have the...heart to decorate it...after Jessie...”

“You been watering it?” Methos tilted his head as he studied the tree.

“When I remember,” Duncan admitted, not taking his eyes off Methos.

“Nicole will need a Christmas tree,” Methos said. “We can decorate it tonight after supper. Is that okay?” Methos let his eyes run over Duncan’s face.

Duncan nodded, too choked up to speak. Methos slipped off the desk and stepped up behind him, wrapping his arms around him in a gesture of understanding and comfort.

“Have I mentioned that I’m glad you’re here?” Duncan tried to laugh.

“You might have, once or twice, but I’ll never get tired of hearing it,” Methos replied, brushing his lips across Duncan’s neck. “Gods, I missed you!” He rested his head on Duncan’s shoulder.

“I missed you, too.” Duncan smiled, and then looked up and blushed. “Uh, hi, Joe.”

“Joe,” Methos greeted the other man without lifting his head.

“Guys,” Joe drawled. “Sorry to interrupt...”

“Oh, you’re not...”

“Yes, he is. What do you want, Joe?” Methos asked, not unkindly.

“Just wondered if Mac here had any plans for supper,” Joe said. “I was just looking in the freezer and saw some chicken breasts. Thought I could cook something up...if that’s all right.”

“Sounds good. Bye, Joe,” Methos replied, sliding his fingers between the buttons on Duncan’s shirt.

Duncan blushed as he grabbed Methos’ wandering hand, and then agreed. “Yes, chicken sounds, uh, good.” He groaned as Methos sucked on his neck. “G-g-go right ahead, Joe. Make yourself at home.”

“Uh, thanks,” Joe said, and then carefully backed out of the room. He prudently waited until he reached the hallway to chuckle to himself.

“Methos!” Duncan hissed as soon as Joe left, spinning around in Methos’ arms.

“Shut up, Duncan,” Methos said breathlessly, cupping Duncan’s buttocks and pressing their groins together, “and just kiss me...”

Duncan grasped Methos’ face between his hands and kissed him.

~*~*~*~

Methos met Nicole at the bus. He had asked Duncan if he could meet the bus and take her for a walk. At the other man’s confused expression, he’d explained - with his best innocent look - that he wanted to have a chance to get to know her better, one-on-one, since they were all going to be living together. Now he stood nervously at the end of the driveway as the door hissed open and he waited for Nicole to appear. His heart jumped at the grin that spread across her face when she saw him waiting for her.

“Adam!” she cried as she jumped off the bottom step and then threw herself into his arms.

“Hey, Nic,” he greeted her, swinging her in a circle.

“Where’s Ia-, er, Duncan?” she asked as she leaned against his chest, one arm around his neck while her backpack dangled from the other.

“He’s in the house,” Methos said. “Keeping Joe company. I wanted to meet you today. Is that okay?” he asked.

“Yes.” Nicole gave him a suddenly shy smile.

“I also need your help,” Methos said gravely.

“With what?” Nicole asked.

“Did you know it was Mac’s birthday yesterday?” he asked.

“No!” Nicole said. “I didn’t get him anything.” She pouted.

“Me neither,” Methos confided. “Joe baked a cake, but don’t say anything.”

“I won’t,” she agreed excitedly. “Is it chocolate?”

“Uh, I’m not sure. And he’s also making a nice dinner so Mac doesn’t have to cook. I wondered if you would take a walk with me into town. I thought we might be able to get him a card, and maybe some presents. What do you say?”

“All right!” Nicole smiled. “I need my after school snack, though,” she said seriously.

“Okay,” Methos agreed. “We’ll stop and get...”

“No ice cream!” Duncan yelled down to them from the front porch.

Methos and Nicole exchanged guilty looks. “All right!” Methos yelled back. He put Nicole on her feet, took her hand, and they started walking down the sidewalk. “He didn’t say anything about cookies,” Methos said conspiratorially.

Nicole giggled. “Clara makes the best chocolate chip cookies after my Grandma,” she said, and then frowned. “I miss her.”

“I know,” Methos said. “She was a wonderful lady. I’m glad I got a chance to meet her.”

“Me too,” Nicole said. They walked in silence. “How come he shot her?” she asked.

Methos was so unprepared for this. He sighed, then stopped walking and squatted down beside Nicole. “I don’t know, sweetheart,” he said. “Sometimes there is no good reason. Bad things happen, and life sucks. And other times, life is good, and beautiful. Like when I have a chance to meet someone wonderful like you.”

“You don’t have all the answers, then?” she asked after a moment of thought.

“No, I don’t,” Methos concurred with a shake of his head.

“Does anyone?” she asked.

“No,” Methos said. “And if they say they do, they’re lying!”

“Duncan?” Nicole tested.

“Especially stubborn Scots,” Methos asserted firmly, standing and taking her hand.

~*~*~*~

Nicole led Methos to Lambert’s and they wandered through the store. She found a soft plum sweater and ran her hand over it. “This is nice,” she said. “Ia-, Duncan doesn’t have any pretty sweaters, just work stuff.” She looked up at Methos through long lashes.

“That’s beautiful,” Methos agreed. “He’d look good in that color.”

Nicole pulled the sweater off the pile and tucked it under her arm. “Maybe we had better check the size,” Methos suggested, taking the extra large sweater and trading it for a smaller size.

“Do you have a CD player back at the house?” Methos asked Nicole when they reached the music section.

“I think so,” Nicole said, scrunching up her face and shrugging.

Methos flipped through the CDs, stopping when one caught his eye. He read the back and laughed. He tried to imagine Duncan’s face when he opened this. He’d never believe that Methos got him something so...poncey. Pathetic. He put it back and kept looking, hoping he’d find one of Mac’s favorite operas.

After he’d made his selection, they picked out cards and gift wrap, and then went up to the counter to pay for their purchases.

“Good afternoon, Miss Nicole,” the elderly man behind the counter greeted Nicole as she stretched to lay the sweater on the counter. Methos caught it before it slid off, and then placed the items he carried beside it.

“Hello, Mr. Lambert,” Nicole said, grabbing the counter and stretching to her tiptoes, pulling herself up so she could see over the counter. “This is Adam,” she said. “He’s gonna live with us.”

“Adam Pierson,” Methos said, holding his hand out. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Ted Lambert,” the other man said, taking Methos’ hand and giving it a firm shake. “You’re staying at Riverview, then?” he asked.

“Yes,” Methos replied pleasantly.

“Friend of Mr. MacLeod, I presume?” the other man asked.

“Yes, we...”

“I need a dress,” Nicole announced. Both men turned to look at her. “It’s Duncan’s birthday,” she explained to Ted Lambert. “We’re having a party, but I don’t have anything to wear.”

“A dress?” Methos asked, his eyes big. He turned to the shop owner for help.

“Children’s section,” the other man said, pointing. Methos’ gaze followed his finger, and then he grasped Nicole’s hand determinedly and headed in that direction. “Girl’s, 4-6,” Ted called helpfully.

Their next stop was the diner for cookies and milk. They sat at the counter and Nicole introduced ‘Adam’ to Clara and Belle. Clara took the opportunity to interrogate him about how Duncan was doing. When they were done with ‘snack’, as Nicole called it, they borrowed scissors and tape from Clara and wrapped their presents.

Then they borrowed a pen and filled out their cards, Nicole’s tongue sticking out as she laboriously formed her letters. She held her card up when she was done, and Methos complimented her work. Everything went back in the bag with Nicole’s dress, and they began the walk home.

~*~*~*~

“Hey, Joe!” Methos greeted the other man when he and Nicole returned to the house. “How long before supper?”

“An hour,” Joe said, looking up from the newspaper he was reading at the kitchen table.

“Okay. Where’s Mac?” Methos asked.

“Right here,” Duncan said from behind Methos. “Where have you been? You went shopping?” he asked when he noticed the shopping bag.

“Yeah!” Nicole said. “I got a...”

Methos covered her mouth and pulled her against him. “Just some things I needed,” he said. “I’ll take them upstairs now. You can help me,” he told Nicole, who just nodded her head, blue eyes wide. “Be right back,” he said, lifting a giggling Nicole under one arm.

“Adam!” Duncan called after him.

“Be right back, Mac!” Methos yelled as he ran up the stairs. “Whew!” he said, when they reached Nicole’s room, the door shut firmly behind them. “That was close! And you almost gave away the surprise!” He shook the giggling bundle under his arm as he set the bag on the bed.

“Okay.” He plopped Nicole on the bed and watched her bounce a few times and roll around trying to right herself. “Let’s get you dressed for the party.” Methos helped Nicole sit up and remove her backpack and jacket, then watched in astonishment as she quickly stripped out of her clothes and began pawing through the shopping bag.

Out came the two wrapped presents to be carefully deposited on the bed, and then the dress, followed by the accessories Methos had been archly informed that she would need - tights and shoes. He helped Nicole with the tights, blaming her when they were put on backwards the first and second times. Nicole just grinned happily at him.

She pulled the midnight blue velvet dress with white lace at the collar and cuffs over her head, and Methos zipped the back. Nicole plopped down on the floor and shoved the new black patent leather shoes on her feet, then leaned back on her elbows and lifted her feet for Methos to buckle the shoes. He sat on the bed and placed her feet, one at a time, on his leg and struggled to close the tiny buckles, swearing under his breath.

When he was done, Nicole jumped to her feet and spun around, her dress twirling about her legs. She stopped, arms held out to her sides, cheeks flushed, a large smile on her face, and posed for Methos.

“You look beautiful,” Methos said, blinking rapidly to keep his eyes from tearing. Must’ve gotten a lash in my eye, he thought. “Shall we go downstairs?” he asked.

“My hair,” Nicole said, scampering over to her dresser to retrieve her brush.

“Huh?” Methos asked.

“You have to fix my hair,” Nicole instructed as she returned to Methos and leaned on his legs, holding out the brush.

“Fix it?” Methos bravely took the brush, un-plaited Nicole’s braid, brushed her hair out, and then carefully re-braided it. It was a little loose, since he was out of practice, but he figured it would do. “Okay,” he said, swatting Nicole’s behind. “Ready to go downstairs now?”

“You have to get dressed,” Nicole said.

“I am dressed.” Methos’ eyes narrowed warningly, but Nicole ignored him.

“You need to dress up,” she said.

“I don’t do dress-up,” Methos argued.

“It’s a party,” Nicole reminded him.

“These are party jeans,” he insisted.

Nicole then did the only thing she could. Her little lips pouted and she tilted her head to the side. “But it’s Duncan’s birthday,” she said, batting her eyelashes.

With a deep sigh of resignation Methos picked up the presents and led Nicole to his room. “I don’t have very many dress-up clothes,” he said, looking through the meager collection in his part of the closet. Thank the gods, he thought silently. He pulled out a pair of charcoal wool pants and a dark blue, lightweight turtleneck sweater. “Will this do?” he asked.

“Oh, yes!” Nicole said, her eyes wide with excitement. “We’ll almost match!”

Methos couldn’t help but smile at her reaction. He tossed the clothes on the bed and sat down to remove his boots. “I’m going in the bathroom to change,” he said as he stood. “Don’t go anywhere!” he growled playfully and pointed at her.

“I won’t,” Nicole giggled, as she climbed on the bed and lay down. Methos just shook his head as he watched her roll from side to side. He grabbed his clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. Just as he lifted his t-shirt over his head, he heard Nicole call out, “Can I have a big bed like this?”

~*~*~*~

Joe was passing through the hallway as Methos and Nicole descended the stairs hand-in-hand. “Hi, Joe!” Nicole called.

Joe looked up the stairs, and his eyes got big. “Well, look at you...” He barely stifled a laugh. “...two. Don’t you both look...precious.”

“Shut it, Joe,” Methos muttered.

“I got a new dress for the party,” Nicole announced as she skipped down the last few steps. When she reached the floor, she spun around for Joe.

“It’s a lovely dress,” Joe said. “And you look very pretty; even your hair. Did you do that yourself?” he asked soberly.

“No, Adam did it,” Nicole said, spinning again.

“I nev-never would have guessed,” Joe said, struggling to keep from laughing.

“I mean it...,” Methos began with a pout.

Duncan appeared in the living room doorway. He leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, and surveyed the three of them. “What’s going on?” he asked, sounding a bit petulant that he’d been left out.

“Duncan!” Nicole cried. “Happy birthday!” She raced towards him and he picked her up. “I got a new dress for the party!” she said, leaning back so he could see it.

“You did?” he asked, his voice choked with emotion.

“Yes!” Nicole squeezed his neck. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Duncan said, as he looked at the dress. “You look lovely. So, there’s a party?”

“A birthday party,” she whispered conspiratorially. “With presents and everything. It’s supposed to be a secret, but it’s okay to tell now, right?” She glanced worriedly at Methos, who just smiled and nodded. “And cake!” she squealed, and nearly fell out of Duncan’s arms as she reared back in excitement.

“Presents and cake?” Duncan repeated stupidly, pulling Nicole back in close. “Someone’s been busy,” he said, glancing between Joe and Methos with narrowed eyes. Both men looked back at him innocently, and he snorted in disbelief.

“Can we open the presents first?” Nicole asked.

“Joe?” Methos looked at the other man. “How long now until supper?”

Joe glanced at his watch. “Enough time to open a couple presents,” he said. “Just let me go get mine. I’ll meet you in the living room.”

Joe headed down the hallway to his room, and Methos took the last step to the floor. He walked over to Duncan and put one arm around his shoulders. “Happy birthday,” he said, giving Duncan a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“That one’s mine,” Nicole said, pointing at one of the presents Methos carried. “Will you open mine first?” she asked, her head tilted back so she could look up at Duncan with big blue eyes.

“Of course,” Duncan said, placing a kiss on her nose, and then turning to buss Methos’ lips. “Oops, here comes Joe. We’d better go sit down,” he said, leading the way into the living room, and sitting down on the couch. Methos sat beside him and Joe took one of the chairs after placing his gift on the coffee table in front of Duncan.

“Mine, mine,” Nicole said, bouncing on Duncan’s lap as she reached over to take the present from Methos and hand it to Duncan.

Duncan opened the card Nicole had picked out, and glanced over at Methos who was trying to keep a straight face. It said, “To a Boy Who’s 5."

Methos gave up, grinned, and shrugged his shoulders. “She liked the picture on the front,” he said.

Duncan opened the card, and Methos could see the struggle to hold back tears when he saw the effort Nicole had put into placing his name at the top, and signing hers to the bottom. “Thank you,” he said, kissing the top of Nicole’s head. “It’s a wonderful card.”

He passed the card to Joe, and then picked up the present, shaking it, pretending to guess what it was. He unwrapped the paper and lifted out the sweater Nicole had chosen. “I picked it out myself,” she said proudly.

“It’s beautiful,” Duncan said, holding the sweater up and brushing his hand over it. “Thank you, Nic.”

“You’re welcome!” she said happily. “Open Adam’s now!” she said, reaching for the other package Methos held.

“Why don’t you open Joe’s first?” Methos suggested, holding the present out of reach.

With a raised eyebrow, Duncan leaned forward and snagged Joe’s gift off the coffee table. He opened the card, and read the sentimental words. “Thanks, Joe,” he said with a smile for his old friend.

“Open the present,” Nicole eagerly reminded him.

Duncan opened the box and pulled out a bottle of Glenmorangie 18-year single malt whiskey. “Thanks, Joe,” Duncan said as he held the bottle carefully, looking it over, then handing it to Methos.

“Looks like a superb after-dinner drink,” Methos commented, before setting the bottle on the coffee table and leaning back.

“Now yours!” Nicole said.

“Oh, well, you know...” Methos blushed and tried to slide the gift under his leg.

“Adam?” Duncan queried.

“You have to open it now,” Joe said. “I have got to see what would make the old man blush.”

“Shut up, Joe,” Methos snarled in embarrassment.

While Methos was distracted, Nicole reached out and snatched the present, handing it to Duncan. “Open it,” she said with an innocent smile.

Chapter Fourteen

 _December 22, 2004  
Riverview B&B_

Duncan looked at Methos’ stricken face. “Adam?”

Methos’ eyes darted up to Duncan’s face, and he swallowed nervously. He gave a slight smile, and then rolled his eyes. “Open it,” he said.

“Are you sure?” Duncan asked, looking hopefully at the package.

That look undid Methos. “Of course, I’m sure,” he said. “I bought it for you, didn’t I?” he asked lightly, trying to convince himself almost as much as Duncan.

Duncan grinned and ripped the card off the package, tearing into the envelope. His eyes teared-up as he read the front cover. ‘Happy Birthday, Sweetheart,’ was written above a picture of a boat sailing down a river. Methos had scrawled ‘barge’ on the card with an arrow drawn to the boat, and ‘Seine’, with an arrow to the river. He opened the card and continued reading. ‘I never knew love, until I met you. Today I celebrate not only your birth into this world, but the happiness you’ve brought to mine. May this day, and each day after, bring you joy, and peace, and love. Happy Birthday.’ It was signed, ‘All my love, now and forever, M.’

Duncan sniffed, and looked up at Methos, who reached out and clasped his arm. “Open it,” he said gruffly.

Duncan passed the card to a curious Joe, and then tore into the wrapping paper. He froze when the item was revealed to be a four CD box-set. He frowned in concentration as he read the cover, and then smiled. He was grinning when he turned to look at Methos. Methos shrugged sheepishly, a tinge of red coloring his pale skin, and smiled back.

“I love you, Adam,” Duncan said, taking Methos’ hand in his and squeezing it.

“And I love you, MacLeod,” Methos replied with a sarcastic lift of his eyebrow.

“I love you, too, Duncan!” Nicole squealed, jumping up for a hug and a kiss. “And you, Adam!” She threw herself at Methos, who caught her and blew raspberries on her neck while she giggled.

“Well, what is it?” Joe finally asked impatiently. Duncan turned to his old friend and held up the box. “‘100 Greatest Love Songs’?” Joe read in disbelief.

“Who knew Adam was such a romantic?” Duncan teased.

“Romantic my...,” Joe scoffed.

“Joe!” Duncan said.

“...fanny!”

Nicole crawled out of Methos’ lap and ran over to Joe. “I love you, too, Joe,” she said, holding her arms up.

“I love you, too, Nic,” Joe said, leaning down to give her a hug, tickling her with his beard. “Wanna go help me in the kitchen?” he asked, setting his cane in place and pushing himself to his feet.

“Okay!” she agreed. “I’m gonna help Joe,” she announced, before skipping ahead of him towards the kitchen.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Joe teased before following Nicole out of the room.

~*~*~*~

Duncan twisted his body so he could look at Methos, placing his arm along the back of the couch. “Methos,” he whispered.

Methos took a deep breath and turned his head to look at Duncan. “It’s not much,” he said, indicating the CDs Duncan was holding. “I didn’t think...” He paused. “I didn’t think I’d see you for your birthday this year,” he said, blinking back sudden tears. “And then I got your messages, and I had to get the car ready, and pack, and then we were driving, and I didn’t think about stopping to...”

“Methos,” Duncan said softly, placing his fingers over Methos’ mouth to silence him. “I didn’t need a present. Having you here is present enough for me.” Methos snorted in disbelief; Duncan grinned. “But I love it,” he added.

Methos rolled his eyes and made a little moue with his lips. “It’s silly,” he said.

“It’s very sweet and romantic,” Duncan said.

“You really like it?” Methos asked, not looking at Duncan.

Duncan smiled, realizing that the older Immortal needed reassurance that he hadn’t made a fool of himself. “Come here,” he said. Methos glanced over at him. “Come on,” Duncan pressed, gesturing with the hand that held the CDs. Methos slid closer to him, and Duncan placed his arm around the other man’s shoulders. He pulled Methos close and whispered into his ear, “I love it, Methos,” and then kissed his neck right behind his ear.

Methos shivered, and Duncan couldn’t resist kissing him again. Methos moaned softly in his throat and dropped his head onto the back of the couch, exposing his neck to Duncan’s attentions. Duncan tossed the CDs onto the other end of the couch and slipped his other arm around Methos’ waist as he pulled the turtleneck away from him and sucked lower on his neck.

“Duncan,” Methos groaned.

“Why did you wear this, Methos?” Duncan asked, frustration evident in his voice as he tugged impatiently on the neck of the sweater.

“I don’t remember,” Methos said, and Duncan laughed before kissing him on the lips.

“Maybe we should go see if Joe needs help before I give in to the urge to rip this off you,” Duncan said, giving the turtleneck another tug.

“No,” Methos said. “I think you should give in.” He turned on the couch and pinned Duncan with his body. “Duncan,” he moaned, and nuzzled Duncan’s neck. Duncan grasped Methos’ face between his hands and kissed him on the lips.

“We still have to decorate the tree,” he reminded Methos, and the other man groaned, dropping his head onto Duncan’s shoulder.

“Bloody hell! Who’s brilliant idea was that?” he whined.

“Yours,” Duncan cheerfully replied.

~*~*~*~

After a dinner of Chicken Parmesan and green salad, followed by coffee, milk, and the hoped-for chocolate cake, the three adults cleaned up the kitchen while Nicole sat at the table and haltingly read to them from a book she’d run up to her room to get. Duncan rolled up the sleeves of his green silk shirt so they wouldn’t get wet, and washed the dishes while Methos cleared the table and Joe dried.

Their respective tasks completed, they retired to the living room. Duncan opened the boxes of Christmas decorations he’d gotten back out of the attic, and went through them with Nicole. Joe started the fire that had been laid in the fireplace while Methos opened the bottle of Glenmorangie and poured some into three glasses, with a glass of apple juice for Nicole.

After helping Duncan string the lights, Methos and Joe tried to sit-out the decorating, but Nicole wouldn’t allow them to. She insisted that they all participate, and then told them where to hang the ornaments she handed out. When the last ball was hung and the last icicle lain, Duncan gave the angel to Nicole and lifted her so she could place it on top of the tree. Once the angel was in place, Methos plugged in the lights while Joe turned off the overhead lights, and they all stood back to look at the lit tree in the glow of the fire.

“It’s pretty,” Nicole said, leaning her head against Duncan’s.

“Yes,” Duncan agreed. “Very pretty.”

Methos heard the sorrow in his voice, and placed a hand on Duncan’s lower back, gently rubbing it. Joe cleared his throat, ending the moment. “How about a toast?” he asked.

“Great idea, Joe,” Methos said, and then moved about refilling all the glasses. He handed them out, giving Nicole’s to her with a flourish that made her giggle.

“Did you want to do the honors, Joe?” Duncan asked as he stepped closer to the other man.

“To good friends.” Joe raised his glass in a toast.

“And love,” Methos added softly, clinking his glass to Joe’s.

“And hope,” Duncan said, pressing his glass to the others.

“To presents,” Nicole chimed in, adding her glass to those in the middle.

~*~*~*~

They sat in the fire-lit room and gazed at the tree, talking softly until Nicole fell asleep on Duncan’s lap. When he stood to carry her up to bed, Joe declared his intentions to also hit the sack. After they’d left, Methos stirred the fire, and then tore the wrap off the box of CDs. He opened the plastic holder and read the names of the songs, and then removed the CD he wanted. He put it in the player he had spied earlier on one of the shelves in the living room, and cued it to the appropriate track.

When Duncan returned, Methos was standing beside the fireplace, a glass of scotch in one hand, his arm resting along the mantle where the remote control lay. He straightened and placed his glass on the mantle, then turned to Duncan and held his hand out. Duncan walked over with a smile on his face. “Alone at last,” he sighed.

“Mmm,” Methos agreed, pulling him closer. “Dance with me?” he asked, running his hands up Duncan’s forearms. Duncan had the sexiest forearms he’d ever seen, he thought, momentarily distracted.

“Dance to what?” Duncan asked. Methos glanced up at him through his lashes and smiled, then reached behind him for the remote. He hit the ‘play’ button, returned the remote to the mantle, and then pulled Duncan into his arms. Moments later the soft strains of ‘The First Time I Loved Forever’ filled the room.

“We’ve got one hundred songs to choose from,” Methos said with a smile. “I like this one.” He placed one arm around Duncan’s waist and the other behind his neck, resting his chin on Duncan’s shoulder.

“‘Beauty and the Beast’?” Duncan asked as he wrapped both arms around Methos’ waist, and Methos could hear the smile in his voice.

“I thought it was appropriate,” he replied.

“I love you, Methos,” Duncan said, placing a kiss on Methos’ ear. “And I really hate this sweater,” he muttered.

“And I love you, Duncan,” Methos replied with a contented smile. Then they were silent as they held each other and moved slowly, listening to the lyrics of the song Methos had chosen for their dance.

> The first time I loved forever  
> Was when you whispered my name  
> And I knew at once you loved me  
> For the me of who I am
> 
> The first time I loved forever  
> I cast all else aside  
> And I bid my heart to follow  
> Be there no more need to hide
> 
> And if wishes and dreams  
> Are merely for children  
> And if love’s a tale for fools  
> I’ll live the dream with you
> 
> For all my life and forever  
> There’s a truth I will always know  
> When my world divides and shatters  
> Your love is where I’ll go

That song ended, another began, and they continued to hold each other gently and move unhurriedly to the music; dancing through ‘You Had Me From Hello’, ‘Can’t Fight This Feeling’, and ‘When You Say Nothing At All’. ‘The First Time Ever I Saw’ had them holding each other tighter, pulling each other closer as the memory of their first meeting swam through their minds, and then the sentiment of ‘Never Gonna Let You Go’ caused Duncan to lift his head and press his lips to Methos’.

Methos yielded to the fire in the Highlander’s kiss, parting his lips and letting Duncan in to explore his mouth, to lay claim. By the time the song was over, they were frantically kissing, and Duncan had just managed to remove Methos’ sweater so he could attach his lips to the tender skin of the other man’s neck as he’d been trying to all night.

‘Sometimes When We Touch’ saw Methos desperately unbuttoning Duncan’s shirt and pushing it off his shoulders. He traced his hands over Duncan’s chest and abdomen, stopping only when he reached the waistband of his slacks. He slipped the button and lowered the zip as he licked and sucked on Duncan’s neck, and then slid his hands beneath the pants to cup the other man’s buttocks.

By the time ‘It’s Your Love’ started, they were both naked and stretched out before the fire. Duncan lay on his back, with Methos sprawled over him. Methos kissed Duncan, teasing his lips and jaw. Duncan tipped his head back as Methos moved along his neck, running his hands over Methos’ back and down to his buttocks. Methos slowly rocked his hips, pressing their groins together. They started moving against each other faster and harder as ‘I Love The Way You Love Me’ played; panting and grunting; kissing and biting their way to climax.

Replete, they lay in front of the fire - Duncan on his back, Methos snuggled up against his side, his head resting on Duncan’s shoulder - their bodies recovering from their orgasms as they listened to ‘I Swear’, ‘Everything I Do (I Do It For You)’, and ‘Because You Loved Me’. When ‘Beautiful In My Eyes’ began to play, Duncan rolled onto his side so he could look into Methos’ eyes.

“You are,” he said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair off Methos’ forehead.

“Are what?” Methos asked sleepily.

“Beautiful.” Duncan kissed him.

~*~*~*~

 _December 23, 2004  
Riverview B&B_

Thursday morning came too early for Duncan, who decided they had to stop falling asleep on the living room floor if he was going to get a good night’s rest. After a repeat performance of getting Methos upstairs, showering, and cleaning up the living room before starting breakfast and getting Nicole dressed for school, Duncan snuck up to the attic. He had previously found the stash of presents Jessie purchased and wrapped them all.

Now he gathered up the ones he wasn’t saving for Santa, and carried them downstairs to put beneath the tree. He straightened and stood back, gazing at the tree which looked even more festive with the gifts beneath it. He really needed to go shopping. He had allowed himself to slide towards despondency - his pain over Jessie’s loss melding with his anguish at the certainty that he’d lost Methos for good - and had let time slip away from him.

He needed to get a present for Nicole. And now that Methos and Joe were actually here, for them as well. He wondered if Joe wanted to go. After knocking softly on Joe’s door, he poked his head in to ask, received a negative reply, and then hurried up the stairs to wake Methos, who had only been saved from Nicole’s early morning wake-up by the fact that they’d been running late for the bus.

Coaxing Methos out of bed with the promise of coffee and breakfast didn’t do the job, so Duncan was forced to throw the blankets back and drag the other man to the bathroom. “Mac-Leod!” Methos whined as Duncan held him up against the wall and turned the water on.

Duncan manhandled him into the tub, pulled the shower curtain, and then lifted the button that sent the water to the showerhead. He grinned when Methos squealed as the cold water hit him, obviously shocking him wide awake.

“Shit! What the fuck?” the other man swore as Duncan heard him scrabble for the faucet to turn the hot water up. “MacLeod,” he growled. “You are a dead man. I am going to kill you when I get out of here. Dead. Very dead...,” he continued to mutter.

Duncan laughed to himself as he left the room without responding. Thirty minutes later he and a sullen Methos piled into the SUV and Duncan drove them to the nearest mall. The two men stayed together to shop for Nicole and Joe, and then split up so they could shop for each other, setting a time to meet at the food court.

Shopping finished, they hurried back to Riverview so they could wrap their presents before Nicole got home from school. They gathered around the kitchen table with scissors, tape, and newly-purchased gift wrap after kicking Joe out of the kitchen. When they were done wrapping Nicole’s and Joe’s gifts, they stared at each other silently, eyes narrowed.

Methos broke the silence. “I’ll go over to the counter. No peeking.”

“Okay,” Duncan quickly agreed. “You either,” he added.

Methos rose, grabbed rolls of wrapping paper and tape, and went over to the far counter, throwing suspicious glances over his shoulder at Duncan.

“Will you go?” Duncan finally said, exasperated.

“No peeking.” Methos repeated.

“I’m not peeking!”

~*~*~*~

When they were done wrapping, Joe was graciously told he could go back into the kitchen. He gave the two men who tried to sneak the wrapped presents past him and under the tree a look, and then turned his back on them and left the living room. Duncan put the presents he’d gotten for Joe and Nicole under the tree, then stood uncertainly with Methos’ still in his hand.

“Are you that worried I’m going to peek, Highlander?” Methos groused from his position on the floor where he’d placed his presents under the tree and shoved Duncan’s under as far as he could reach.

Duncan narrowed his eyes. “Yes.”

Methos just grinned and waggled his eyebrows. Duncan felt his heart melt. He knelt on the floor in front of Methos, grabbed him roughly around the shoulders, and kissed him soundly. He shoved his gift against Methos’ chest.

“If you peek, I’m going to have to spank you,” he said, standing and leaving Methos holding the present.

Methos glanced down at the gift-wrapped item thoughtfully, and then up at Duncan. He frowned. “You make it really hard to be good, MacLeod,” he whined.

Duncan grinned. Muttering under his breath, Methos placed the gift under the tree, next to the one he’d gotten for Duncan, then stood. He gave Duncan a quick kiss as he brushed past him and headed for the kitchen.

Joe was slicing the still-warm banana bread he’d baked while they were gone, and they each had a piece while they sat around the table in the cozy kitchen, waiting for Nicole to get home so they could go to the diner for an early supper. While they were waiting for the bus, Joe told them that he’d driven the couple of blocks into town and checked out some of the shops that morning, introducing himself to the owners. He and Duncan discussed several of the locals he’d met since moving there, and moved on to the possibility of baking Christmas cookies with Nicole that evening. Methos sprawled in his chair, his leg snugged up against Duncan’s, and listened silently to their easy conversation.

~*~*~*~

Nicole led the way to her favorite booth at the diner, which Clara now reserved for them on Thursdays. She slid onto one of the bench seats, imperiously instructed Joe to sit with her, and then struggled out of her coat. Joe took his coat off and hung it on one of the hooks at the end of the booth, then carefully maneuvered his way into the booth beside the young blonde.

Duncan removed his jacket and slid into the booth, folded it and laid it on the seat between him and the wall. Methos shrugged out of his long coat and hung it up, then sat next to Duncan. Because of Duncan’s jacket on the seat, they were sitting close enough for their thighs to touch. Methos moved even closer, let his arm brush Duncan’s, and then reached for Duncan’s hand under the table and squeezed it.

Startled, it took him a moment to respond. Closing his fingers over Methos’, he squeezed back. When Belle approached the table to take their order, Duncan began to pull away. Methos held on, refusing to let him go. Duncan’s breath caught. In his heart, it felt as if he had loved Methos forever, and for the first time the other man was not only willing to allow Duncan to touch him in public, but had initiated it.

“Hi, Belle!” Nicole squealed happily, clambering to her knees and leaning her elbows on the tabletop.

“Hi, Nic, Ia-, er, Duncan. Sorry,” Belle apologized.

“That’s all right,” Duncan said graciously, willing to forgive nearly any transgression at that moment. “It’ll take some getting used to.”

Belle flushed and flashed a relieved smile.

“Joe, Adam, this is Belle. Belle, Joe and Adam,” Duncan introduced Belle to the other two men, pointing at each in turn.

“They’re gonna live with us,” Nicole announced, her fingers tapping joyfully on the table.

“Um, okay, that’s nice,” Belle stammered. “Nice to meet you,” she said politely.

“Hi, Belle,” Joe said, shaking Belle’s hand.

“Hello,” Methos said, taking her hand and kissing the knuckles.

Belle gaped. Duncan gently elbowed Methos in the ribs in silent rebuke for teasing Belle as the other man slowly released the young girl’s hand.

“Uh, hi,” she said.

“Joe plays guitar. He’s a musi-shon,” she emphasized. “He’s gonna play for me tonight,” Nicole continued.

“I am?” Joe asked.

Nicole smiled prettily, and blinked at him.

“Uh, I guess I am,” Joe said.

“That’s, um, great,” Belle stammered, staring at her hand for a moment before taking a firm grasp on the order pad. “Are you, uh, all having the chicken and biscuit special?” she asked, pen held over the pad with a trembling hand.

“Do you have any chocolate pudding?” Nicole asked seriously, placing her chin in her hand and staring at Belle with big, blue eyes.

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” Belle said, obviously confused by the request, and glanced at Duncan.

“Chocolate pudding?” Duncan repeated, staring at Nicole. “What about the chicken and biscuits?”

“Adam said eating dessert after dinner is impr-impractle,” Nicole explained patiently.

“Impractical,” Duncan automatically corrected, and then looked at Adam. “He did, did he?” He frowned.

Lightly rubbing his thumb over the back of Duncan’s hand, Methos shrugged and gave him an unrepentant grin accompanied by a raised eyebrow. Duncan felt himself melt.

“I’ll have the chocolate pudding, too,” Methos said, glancing up at Belle.

“Adam!” Duncan cried, exasperated. “If you’re going to have dessert here, you have to try the pie! Clara makes the best pie in the county.” He pointed to the sign that said so, and then turned to Belle. “Apple, warmed, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream,” he told her archly.

Methos grinned at him and it went straight to his groin.

Nicole giggled happily. “Joe?” she asked, looking at the other man.

“Lemon meringue and coffee,” Joe ordered.

“Three milks,” Methos added.

“I really like soda,” Nicole attempted to change his mind.

“Milk,” Methos repeated.

Nicole sighed deeply, and then looked up at Methos through her lashes.

“Milk,” he said again, though his voice wavered slightly.

“Milk,” Duncan backed him up.

Nicole, overruled, gave up her attempts to sway the two men.

Belle just shook her head as she walked to the kitchen. Duncan found himself grinning like an idiot.

“And put in an order for four specials,” he called after her.

Chapter Fifteen

 _December 24, 2004  
Christmas Eve Day  
Riverview B&B_

Methos woke up when a knee caught him in the belly as Nicole attempted to crawl over him. He grunted loudly, and then reached out blindly to grasp her tiny waist and lift her over him to prevent her from kneeing him in a more delicate area. Nicole giggled as he deposited her onto her knees in the tiny space between him and Duncan in the double bed.

Methos catalogued his surroundings - Duncan was still in bed, so it was too early for Nicole to be up for school... And then he remembered that it was Christmas Eve Day, and there was no school for Nicole.

“What are you doing up so early?” Methos asked, barely keeping the whine out of his voice as he obligingly moved over a bit to give Nicole room to maneuver while she tugged the blankets back and squirmed beneath them, snuggling up against him, her head sharing his pillow.

“There’s no school,” she said as if that answered everything.

Methos was still confused. “Then shouldn’t you want to sleep later?” he asked, and could have sworn the muffled snort he heard when Duncan rolled onto his side facing away from them, in what Methos was certain was faked sleep, was a hastily covered laugh.

He didn’t have too much time to think about it, though, because Nicole was regarding him with wide blue eyes that proclaimed him an alternate life form, or perhaps merely an idiot.

“You don’t want to waste a day of no school by staying in bed!” she insisted emphatically.

“Ah,” Methos said, nodding his head in agreement, although he didn’t really understand her point. Any time he spent in bed was good, especially with Duncan there. Hmm, Duncan, he thought with an evil smirk. “Then don’t you think we should wake Duncan up, too?” he asked innocently, his feet rubbing against Duncan’s leg under the blankets.

“Oh, yes!” Nicole squealed happily, clapping her hands together in her excitement.

Methos felt Duncan stiffen beneath his foot. “How do you think we should do it?” he asked thoughtfully. “We could kiss him awake,” he suggested, then lifted Nicole and rolled them so they were both lying on their sides behind Duncan. Methos kissed Duncan’s shoulder, and Nicole leaned forward and placed a kiss between his shoulder blades. Duncan didn’t move.

“Hmm, that didn’t seem to work,” Methos mused. “Maybe we should try... ” He paused and wiggled his fingers in front of Nicole’s face, and then slipped his hand under the covers. “...tickling him!”

Nicole and Methos tickled Duncan’s ribs as he attempted to fight off their hands while laughing helplessly. Having no luck, he jumped out of bed and turned to stare balefully at them.

“That was not funny,” he said with a heavy Scottish brogue.

Methos, who found the Highlander sexy at any time, was turned on by the heaving chest and glinting eyes. He moved away from Nicole as he studied the wild-haired man, suddenly glad they’d both slept in boxers.

“I thought it was funny,” Methos said, and then turned to Nicole. “What did you think?”

Nicole grinned, then giggled. “I thought it was funny,” she agreed, nodding furiously.

“You lose, MacLeod,” Methos proclaimed, relaxing back onto his pillow and stretching out. “Two against one, it was funny.”

Duncan, who could never hold a stern look for long, let his features soften and gazed at the two of them with such love it brought a lump to Methos’ throat.

“Somebody should wake Joe up,” the older Immortal suggested conspiratorially.

“Okay!” Nicole squealed. “Let’s go!”

“You go on ahead,” Methos said. “We’ll get dressed and come down to cook breakfast.”

“All right!” Nicole agreed excitedly, scrambling out of the twisted blankets, crawling over Methos, and dropping to the floor. Methos watched her run to the door, blonde hair flying behind her, bare feet slapping against the wood floor. When she was gone, he turned to Duncan and held out his hand.

“Come here, Highlander,” he drawled.

“I thought we were going to get dressed and make breakfast?” Duncan returned, folding his arms over his chest and ignoring Methos’ hand.

Methos let his lids drop over his eyes until they were nearly closed, and looked up at Duncan through his lashes. He watched the younger Immortal’s nostrils flare at Methos’ seductive gaze.

“Come here, Duncan,” he purred.

Duncan’s chest was rising and falling rapidly for quite another reason now. Methos let his hooded eyes trail down the other man’s body and then slowly back up until hazel eyes locked with brown.

“I need a good morning kiss,” Methos said huskily, then tilted his head back to expose his neck and stretched.

“You don’t play fair,” Duncan hissed.

Methos closed his eyes and smiled, rubbing one hand over his chest. He licked his lips and moaned as he pinched his nipples. The mattress dipped when Duncan climbed on, and Methos’ heart slammed in his chest with anticipation.

Duncan straddled his thighs, pulled his hands away from his chest, and pinned them to the bed. Methos slowly opened his eyes to see his wild Scottish lover looming over him. Duncan leisurely lowered his head until their lips were just brushing.

Methos groaned and tried to deepen the kiss when Duncan merely held that position, but the other man wouldn’t allow it. With a sigh of defeat, Methos closed his eyes again and settled back on the pillow. Duncan lowered his head and dragged his tongue across Methos’ lips before slipping it between them. Methos whimpered his approval.

Duncan pulled back and waited for Methos to open his eyes and meet his heated gaze. “Morning, Methos,” he whispered.

Methos smiled and squirmed beneath the Highlander. “Morning, Duncan,” he whispered back.

~*~*~*~

By the time they got downstairs, Joe and Nicole had breakfast underway. Nicole, nattering away at Joe, paid their late arrival no mind, but Joe gave them a knowing grin that made both men blush.

After breakfast, Methos took Nicole upstairs to get dressed while Duncan and Joe cleaned up. He sat on the bed while she picked out her clothes. Though she had been chattering a mile-a-minute at the breakfast table, she was now suddenly quiet. She had pulled a pair of blue jean overalls with embroidered rabbits on the front pocket out of her dresser, and was just staring at them.

“What’s wrong, Nic?” Methos asked.

“Can I wear these?” she asked, turning to show Methos the jeans.

“Of course, you can,” Methos replied.

Nicole climbed onto the bed and showed him the embroidered pocket. “My Grandma did this,” she said. “She was going to teach me how to do it when I got older, but now she won’t be able to.”

Nicole leaned into his side and sniffled. Methos sat awkwardly, his hand hovering in the air uncertainly before he finally lowered it and gently rubbed her tiny back.

“I miss her,” Nicole said, and then began to cry in earnest.

“I know,” Methos said softly. Feeling out of his element, he pulled her into his lap and rocked her. “I know.”

When Nicole’s sobs quieted, Methos said, “I know it doesn’t really feel like it now, but your grandmother will always be alive as long as you remember her. Here.” He placed the tips of his fingers against her temple. “And here.” He dropped his hand and placed it over her heart.

Nicole thought about that for a minute. “It’s not the same,” she finally said.

“No, it’s not,” Methos agreed.

~*~*~*~

When Methos and Nicole returned to the kitchen, the breakfast dishes had been cleaned up and their next project was in full swing. Joe had set up the crock pot for supper and was busy mixing a large batch of frosting so they could frost the sugar cookies they’d baked the night before. Duncan had already rolled out the chocolate jumble cookie dough that sat in the fridge overnight, and was cutting the cookies out and placing them on the baking sheet.

A couple hours later, when the baking was done, the mess cleaned up, and gaily frosted cookies piled on plates and wrapped with festively-colored plastic wrap, the three men sat around the kitchen table exhausted, but pleased with the results of their efforts.

“I keep forgetting how much work baking is,” Duncan groaned.

“I tried to tell you,” Methos groused as he tried to work a kink out of his shoulder. “But you were all, ‘oh, come on, Adam, it’ll be fun’,” he said in a high falsetto.

“I don’t talk like that,” Duncan grumbled.

“I need a nap,” Joe said.

Nicole appeared in the kitchen doorway wearing coat, boots, hat, and gloves. She looked the three men over without a shred of sympathy. “Aren’t we gonna go deliver the cookies now?” she asked happily.

Duncan moaned.

~*~*~*~

Over the next hour, Duncan, Methos, Joe, and Nicole stopped at Earle’s Gas & Go, the IGA, Nora’s Books & Gifts, the Savings & Loan, Buster’s Soda Fountain and Pharmacy, and Picture Perfect, delivering cookies to the people Duncan had met during his stay in the small town, introducing Joe and ‘Adam’, and wishing them a Merry Christmas. At Belle’s Diner, they decided to rest before continuing their deliveries.

“Coffee,” Methos gasped as he fell into a booth. Nicole laughed and climbed in after him, crawling on top of him and kissing his cheek. Duncan and Joe slid into the seat across from them.

“Rough day?” Clara asked, appearing with a tray of filled coffee cups, creamers, and a mug of hot cocoa for Nicole.

“We baked cookies!” Nicole squealed happily, and then carefully leaned forward to blow on the hot cocoa Clara had set before her.

“We made some for you, too,” Duncan said, sliding one of the two remaining plates forward. “I know you bake your own desserts here, but we thought you might enjoy some you didn’t have to make yourself.”

“Oh, thank you!” Clara said, seating herself beside Nicole and tearing open the plastic wrap to see what they’d brought her. “Mmm, sugar cookies,” she said. “And chocolate jumbles! My favorite. Want one with your hot cocoa?” she tilted her head and asked Nicole.

“Yes, please!” Nicole said, and reached for a cookie, then stilled and looked over at Duncan. “I can, right?” she asked, suddenly unsure.

Duncan hid a smile. “Hmm, I don’t want you to ruin your dinner...”

“I won’t!” she assured him. “I promise to be really hungry later.”

“Well, all right,” he agreed, smiling as Nicole eagerly grabbed a Santa Claus-shaped cookie from the plate.

“Joe, Adam, Duncan?” Clara offered, sliding the plate into the middle of the table and taking a wreath-shaped chocolate jumble off the pile. She ate the cinnamon candies before biting into the cookie. “Mmm, good,” she said around a mouthful of cookie.

“Duncan says I’m not supposed to talk with my mouth full,” Nicole announced.

Clara swallowed. “And he’s absolutely right. That was very bad of me. But it was so gooood,” she moaned, making Nicole laugh. “Who’s the last plate for?” she asked.

“Ted,” Duncan replied, sipping his coffee.

“Oh! You’re going to take Nicole over to have her picture taken with Santa Claus?” she asked excitedly.

Duncan stared at her stupidly. “Huh?” he asked.

~*~*~*~

Duncan found Ted and delivered the plate of cookies to him while Methos and Joe waited in line with Nicole so she could have her picture taken with Santa Claus. Despite the fact that a large mall was less than an hour away, Lambert’s was full of last-minute shoppers. Ted took the plate of cookies and thanked Duncan, then dragged him back to his office so he could hide them from the frenzied crowd.

The two men chatted for a moment, and then Ted told him that he appreciated the break, but he had to get back out to the store. Duncan joined Methos in the Santa Claus line, and looked around for Joe and Nicole.

“She had to go to the bathroom,” Methos informed him.

“And you made Joe take her?” Duncan asked, raising one eyebrow.

“He lost the coin toss,” Methos replied with a shrug.

Duncan just shook his head, and then looked around them. “Is this line moving at all?” he asked.

~*~*~*~

 _December 24, 2004  
Christmas Eve  
Riverview B&B_

Nearly three hours later, the four of them were sitting in the living room, exhausted. Duncan and Methos sat beside each other on the couch. Nicole was curled up on Joe’s lap watching the lights on the Christmas tree, her head resting on his shoulder, her tiny fingers playing with his beard.

After waiting in line for over an hour, Nicole had finally gotten to sit on Santa’s lap and pose for a picture. There had been an uneasy moment when he asked her what she wanted for Christmas. Nicole had paused, and then said sadly, “I want my Grandma back, but I know you can’t bring me that.” Duncan had held his breath, tears stinging his eyes at her response. Then Joe said something, and Methos made a funny face, and Nicole had smiled for the picture.

When they got back to the house, they ate the roast, potatoes, and carrots that had been simmering in the crock pot all day. After clean-up, Methos mixed up his ‘world famous’ eggnog.

“Is that ‘old world’ famous?” Duncan asked jokingly, and Methos gave an unamused laugh.

Now they sat in the living room with the overhead lights off so they could enjoy the lights on the tree. The doorbell rang, eliciting a mass groan from the three men.

“I’ll get it!” Nicole said, jumping off Joe’s lap.

“Thank the gods,” Methos whined. “I’m not getting up until tomorrow.”

Nicole squealed from the hallway, making all three men jump. “They wanna sing us a song!” she exclaimed, jumping up and down in the living room doorway. “Can they, please?”

“Carolers,” Duncan said unnecessarily.

“We should go listen to them,” Joe said unconvincingly.

“I’m not moving,” Methos reiterated.

Duncan put his eggnog down and took Methos’ cup out of his hand. The older Immortal crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at him.

“C’mon, Methos,” Duncan whispered softly so Nicole wouldn’t hear.

“No,” he replied petulantly.

Duncan narrowed his eyes. “Don’t make me break out the big guns,” he warned.

“MacLeod, I am not...ahhh!” he squealed when Duncan dug his fingers into his ribs. While Methos was still breathless from laughter and unable to resist, Duncan stood and tugged him to his feet, then pulled him close.

“I love you, Methos,” he whispered in the other man’s ear.

Methos’ tiredness melted away. “I love you, too, you big oaf,” he said, and then pulled away and walked towards Nicole. “Are you coming?” he called back over his shoulder. “We have carolers.”

Duncan shook his head, and then turned to help Joe to his feet. “How can you stand being friends with him?” he asked facetiously.

“At least I can get away from him by going to bed,” Joe shot back.

Duncan grinned. “Yeah, but that’s when he’s...”

Joe held up his hand to silence Duncan. “I really, really don’t wanna know,” he said.

When Duncan and Joe got to the front door, Methos and Nicole were already on the porch with the carolers. Duncan moved up behind Methos and wrapped his arm around the other man’s waist. He kept one hand on Joe’s shoulder, and rested the other on Nicole’s head as she stood in front of Methos and leaned back against him.

As soon as they were all gathered, the carolers started singing. While they sang, a light dusting of snow began to fall.

~*~*~*~

After the carolers left, Joe turned in. Duncan looked at Nicole.

“What?” she asked.

“Aren’t you tired?” he asked her.

“No,” she said, and promptly yawned.

“You need to get your rest for tomorrow,” Duncan tried.

“If you don’t go to sleep, Santa won’t be able to come and drop off your presents,” Methos added helpfully.

“Will you tuck me in and tell me a story?” she asked.

“Uh, sure,” Duncan replied. “Which one of us?” he asked.

Nicole smiled. “Both.”

~*~*~*~

After putting Nicole to bed, Duncan and Methos returned to the living room. They turned all the downstairs lights off so the only illumination came from the tree, and then sat on the couch. Methos snuggled up against Duncan, resting his head on the other man’s shoulder. They sat in a comfortable silence. Methos shifted and saw the light glinting off the trail of tears on Duncan’s face.

“Duncan,” he whispered, reaching out to wipe away a tear.

Duncan sniffled and looked away, lifting his hand and using the back to swipe the tears away. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?” Methos asked softly.

“I’m not sad, really,” Duncan insisted. “Just...”

“Me, too,” Methos interrupted him.

“You, too, what?” Duncan asked, his voice breaking.

“I’m happy to be here,” he replied.

“Really?” Duncan asked. “The forever kind of happy to be here?” he asked, and then shook his head and turned his face away. “Don’t answer that.”

Methos cupped Duncan’s chin and turned his face back so he could look into his eyes. “Yes, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, the forever kind of happy to be here.”

Duncan started crying. “Oh, God, Methos, I really missed you,” he said.

Methos slid onto Duncan’s lap and held his head with both hands, placing light kisses over his face and licking away the traces of tears. “I missed you, too. I love you, Duncan. Love you,” he repeated, and punctuated it with a light kiss upon his lover’s lips. “Love you,” he said again, and kissed him harder.

Duncan’s hands tightened on Methos’ back, and then slid up until he was nearly crushing the other man against his chest. He opened his mouth and drew Methos in deeper. They kissed until both men were breathless, their bodies aching for more. Methos pulled back and rested his head on Duncan’s shoulder, his fingers tangling in the other man’s hair.

Finally Duncan grunted, and shifted beneath Methos. “You’re a lot heavier than Nicole,” he commented lightly.

Methos refused to rise to the bait. “And a lot sexier,” he said.

“Hmmph,” Duncan responded.

“I’d like to give you my present now,” Methos said. He’d been thinking about it for the last couple minutes, since Duncan had kissed him senseless, and he thought it would be best to give it to him without an audience. What if he hated it? he thought worriedly.

“Now?” Duncan asked. “You don’t want to wait until tomorrow?”

Methos shook his head against Duncan’s shoulder.

Duncan stiffened. “It’s not a...toy...is it?” he asked warily.

Methos couldn’t help guffawing at the image of Duncan opening a package of sex toys in front of Joe, who would blush, and Nicole, who wouldn’t know what they were. “No,” he snorted. “Not a toy. Though I did see a shop...”

“Never mind, Methos,” Duncan warned.

Methos stopped laughing and settled down, once again serious. “May I?” he asked.

“Give me your present?” Duncan clarified.

Methos nodded.

“Is there a reason you want to give it to me tonight rather than tomorrow?” he asked.

Methos nodded again.

“I mean, other than to get me out of my funk, ‘cause you’re doing pretty well there on your own,” Duncan said.

Methos smiled. “Yes, other than that.”

“All right,” Duncan said, rubbing his hands over Methos’ back. “You can give me your present tonight.”

Methos pushed himself off Duncan’s lap and stood for a moment, running his fingers through his hair, before moving towards the tree. He got down on his knees and reached far in under the tree for the package he’d placed out of reach. He held it in his hands for a moment, before turning his head to look at Duncan, who was staring back at him with a worried frown on his face.

“Methos?”

Methos rose to his feet and walked back over to Duncan, kneeling between his legs and holding out the small package. Duncan took it from him hesitantly, and then fumbled with the paper as he unwrapped it. Beneath the Christmas wrapping was a small velvet box, larger than a ring box, but smaller than a necklace box, he knew from experience.

He looked down into Methos’ eyes and could see the anxiety. The only time he had seen Methos anxious about anything was the Horsemen. Even when Methos didn’t know what he was doing, he exuded confidence. What could be in the box? Duncan flipped the top open and stared inside. Two golden bands decorated with the interwoven Celtic knot nested atop the cotton padding inside the box. Duncan opened his mouth, and then closed it, then opened it again, though no sound emerged.

“They’re, um, commitment rings,” Methos nervously filled in the silence. “If you don’t like them we can...”

“I love them,” Duncan’s voice broke.

Methos lifted his hands as if they weighed a ton and placed them on Duncan’s knees. He kneaded the flesh and ran his hands slowly up the other man’s legs. Duncan sucked in a breath as Methos neared his groin. Methos raised himself up on his knees and leaned forward, lifting his face to Duncan’s. Duncan leaned down and they kissed, capturing the box between their bodies.

He pulled back and looked up at Duncan through his lashes. “Does that mean you’ll marry me?” he asked hopefully.

Chapter Sixteen

 _December 24, 2004  
Christmas Eve  
Riverview B&B_

Duncan was still speechless. He looked from Methos’ eyes, to his wet, swollen lips, to the box he was holding in nerveless hands, and back to Methos’ eyes.

“You want to marry me?” Duncan asked, stunned.

“Yes,” Methos said. “And I want you to marry me. If you’ll have me.”

“Oh, Methos!” Duncan grabbed the other man’s shoulders and pulled him up onto the couch. “If I’ll have you? If I’ll... What kind of idiotic question is that? Of course I’ll have you! I mean, I want you. I need you. God, Methos, I love you. But you... Do you want me? Just me? Need just me? L-love...”

“Yes, Duncan, yes; to all of it. Just you. I swear, I need...I need us,” Methos said.

“Methos...”

“Duncan.”

Duncan dropped the ring box into his lap and reached for Methos. They came together hard, desperate, bumping noses and clinking teeth. Duncan pushed Methos back as the other man clung to him. He settled atop him and pressing their bodies together while their tongues danced.

Methos grunted and let go of Duncan just long enough to reach between them and retrieve the box that was pressing painfully into his thigh. He dropped it on the floor and brought his hand back to Duncan, slipping it beneath his shirt. Duncan was sucking and nipping at his neck.

“Thank God you didn’t wear a turtleneck today, Methos,” he breathed.

Methos arched his neck. “Yeah, I’m pretty thankful about that, too,” he moaned.

“I want you naked, Methos,” Duncan growled, his heated breath raising goose bumps on Methos’ neck and down his back. “I need to feel you against me.”

“Oh, gods, yes, I want that, too!”

Duncan rose up and tugged at the sweater. Methos slapped his hands away and reached for the hem of his sweater, grabbed it and the t-shirt underneath, and lifted them up. As he struggled to lift his shoulders off the couch and pull his sweater off, Duncan lowered his head to the bared skin of his stomach. He licked and sucked at the sensitive skin, making Methos shiver and squirm beneath his touch.

Methos finally got the sweater over his head and tossed it to the floor. He immediately reached for Duncan’s shirt, pulling it up his torso and over his head. It caught on his hair tie which Methos quickly unclasped, releasing Duncan’s hair to fall over them both. He dropped both to the floor and buried his fingers in Duncan’s hair, wrapping the long strands around his fingers and tugging, bringing Duncan’s face down to his.

Methos nibbled at the full lips, then dragged his tongue along them. He slipped his tongue between Duncan’s lips, engaged his tongue, and coaxed it into his mouth. He sucked on it, and Duncan bucked against him. As their tongues danced, their hands were busy exploring each other’s bodies.

Duncan pulled back, and his body shuddered. “Methos,” he breathed. Their groins continued to press together. “I need... God, Methos, I need you!”

Methos smirked as well as he could with his own body aching for release. “You need to be inside me, Highlander?” he asked. He ran his hands up Duncan’s arms to his shoulders, and down his chest. “Do you want to fuck me?” he asked, pinching the other man’s nipples. “Possess me?”

“No, Methos,” Duncan said, his accent deepening. “Want you...in me,” he managed to get out.

Methos was surprised. He’d thought Duncan would want to reassure himself that he had Methos by taking him physically. And then he understood. Duncan wanted reassurance that Methos possessed him, would always possess him.

“Oh, Highlander,” he said. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.” He sat up and pushed Duncan back onto his knees, then leaned forward and ran his tongue over the hard nubs on Duncan’s chest. He worried them with his teeth, and Duncan groaned, pressing his groin into Methos’ legs.

“Get naked for me, Duncan,” he said.

Duncan got unsteadily to his feet and toed off his shoes. He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, shucking pants, boxers, and socks in one move. He straightened, standing before Methos gloriously naked. Methos let his eyes rove appreciatively over the other man’s body.

“Now me,” he said, standing. Duncan hurriedly divested Methos of the rest of his clothes, and then ran his hands over his body.

Methos leaned in and kissed his neck and along his jaw. “I don’t suppose there’s any lube hidden in the couch?” he whispered in Duncan’s ear. Duncan groaned.

“No matter,” Methos said, taking his earlobe between his teeth. “Get on your knees, Duncan,” he said, his hand on Duncan’s lower back urging him towards the couch.

Duncan knelt on the couch and leaned over the back; Methos knelt on the floor behind him. He grasped Duncan’s hips, then kissed and licked the round, firm globes of his ass. He spread his lover’s cheeks and ran his tongue along the cleft. As he passed over Duncan’s hole, the other man shuddered.

Methos licked him again, pressing more firmly against the puckered skin, and Duncan moaned. Methos kissed, and then sucked on the sensitive area.

“God, Methos, please!” Duncan begged.

Methos pressed his tongue into the hole, pushing past the ring of muscle. Duncan groaned in approval and pushed back. Methos moved his tongue in and out to loosen the muscles, and then began to tongue him in earnest. When Duncan was babbling his pleasure and pleading for more, Methos pulled out.

He stood and reached out for Duncan’s hand. “Come,” he said, helping Duncan stand. He grabbed the quilted blanket off the back of the couch and threw it on the floor, then knelt, pulling Duncan down with him.

“I’m not sure we should use this blanket,” Duncan said, breathless, little shivers racking his body.

“Want to go upstairs?” Methos asked.

Duncan looked at him for a moment, then shook his head ‘no’. “We can wash it,” he said, laying down on his back.

Methos smiled and moved between his legs. “You always were the smart one,” he said, running his hands down the back of Duncan’s thighs as the other man pulled his legs back.

“Please, Methos,” Duncan implored.

Methos needed no further urging. He spread the pre-come leaking from his penis over the head and down the shaft, then lined himself up with Duncan’s ass. He pressed forward, felt Duncan bear down, and then he was in. He paused to allow Duncan to adjust, and then slowly slid all the way in until his balls were nestled up against Duncan’s ass.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yes!” Duncan cried desperately.

Methos pulled out, and then pushed back in. He found Duncan’s prostate and slammed over it as he drove into the other man. Again. And again. Until Duncan was writhing beneath him, entreating him for more, and harder, and faster. So Methos complied, pumping into the other man until Duncan had to reach for the hard flesh bobbing against his stomach with each thrust.

Methos’ arms were shaking with the strain. He lowered himself over Duncan and kissed him, his tongue sliding in and out of Duncan’s mouth as his cock moved in and out of his ass. Duncan wrapped his legs around Methos’ back, his arms around his shoulders, and pulled him in close. Within moments, Methos felt Duncan stiffen against him, and then the warm wash against his stomach as Duncan came, shooting his release between them.

Methos groaned as the muscles of Duncan’s ass tightened around him. “Fuck! Duncan!” he cried, thrusting twice more before he was overcome with his own climax, filling Duncan’s ass with his fluid. Methos let his weight rest on Duncan, and the other man tightened his hold on him.

Eventually, Duncan slowly lowered his legs, groaning as he stretched the muscles out. Methos lifted himself up enough to look down into Duncan’s face.

“I love you, Highlander,” he said.

Duncan smiled. “I love you, Methos.”

Methos slithered up Duncan’s body and stretched for the ring box, then rolled off Duncan and settled himself against the other man’s side. Duncan didn’t relinquish his hold on him.

Methos stared at the box for a moment before speaking. “I got them engraved,” he said. He pulled out Duncan’s ring, and Duncan took it from him, turning it until he could see the engraving by the light from the tree.

“Yours, Forever 12/25/04,” Duncan read. He looked at Methos with tears in his eyes.

“I mean it, Highlander. I’m not moving from your side,” Methos said, snuggling in closer. “Well, maybe to shower,” he allowed. He tilted his head and looked up at Duncan. “Do...do you want to put it on?” he asked.

A tear slipped out and ran down Duncan’s temple. “Yes,” he said, handing the ring back to Methos.

“Uh, what am I supposed to do with this?” he asked uncertainly.

“Put it on me, of course!” Duncan said with a sniffle. “After you ask me again, properly,” he added.

Methos grinned. “You want me on bent knee, Highlander?”

“No,” Duncan said, squeezing him. “Right here is fine.”

“All right,” Methos said, and paused as he gathered his thoughts. “Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, would you do me the great honor of becoming my, er, wife?” he asked.

“Partner!” Duncan growled, digging his fingers into Methos’ ribs.

“Okay, okay!” Methos cried, squirming in Duncan’s grip. He started again. “Duncan MacLeod...”

“You can skip that part.” Duncan poked him.

Methos sighed. “Who’s doing this, anyway? Okay. Duncan, I love you with all my heart, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Would you do me the great honor of becoming my partner?”

Duncan blinked back tears as he looked into Methos’ eyes. “Yes,” he said. Methos slipped the ring on his finger, and Duncan held it up so he could look at it. “It’s beautiful,” he said. “Where’s the other one?”

Methos got the other ring out of the box and handed it to Duncan.

“Methos, you’re the most exasperating man I know...”

Methos grinned.

“...and I love you dearly. I also want to spend the rest of my life with you as my partner.” He slipped the ring onto Methos’ finger, and then raised his hand to his lips and kissed it. “Forever,” he said.

“Forever,” Methos agreed.

~*~*~*~

 _December 25, 2004  
Christmas Day  
Riverview B&B_

Nicole woke them early the next morning by jumping on the foot of the bed and singing, “It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas!”

Duncan rolled over and looked at the clock, groaning when he realized it wasn’t even six o’clock yet, and they’d barely had two hours of sleep. After they made love and committed themselves to each other, they had needed to put the rest of the presents under the tree, eat some of the cookies Nicole had insisted on leaving out for Santa, toss the blanket in the washer, and clean up for bed.

“Nicole, sweetie,” he rasped. “We need just a couple more minutes...”

“Okay, I’ll wait here.” Nicole settled herself at the foot of the bed, singing softly to herself. After about thirty seconds, she said, “You ready yet?”

A muffled giggle was heard from under the pile of blankets on Methos’ side of the bed. It quickly turned into a yelp when Duncan goosed him beneath the sheets.

“Watch it, MacLeod,” he growled as he pushed the blankets back and emerged from the warm cocoon he’d been wrapped in. “Morning, sunshine,” he said to Nicole.

She smiled. “Morning, Adam!” She rolled onto her side and rested her head in her hand. “How come Duncan’s in a bad mood?” she whispered loudly.

“I’m not in a bad mood, I’m tired!” Duncan defended himself.

“You should have gone to bed when I did,” Nicole said. “I’m not tired at all. And Santa was here, ‘cause there’s more presents under the tree, and he even ate some of the cookies,” she added excitedly. “Joe’s already awake, too,” she said. “He’s making breakfast. And coffee. He told me to wake you guys up. Said if he only got a couple hours sleep, you only got a couple hours sleep. What does that mean?” she asked.

“Oh, God,” Duncan moaned, pulling the blankets up over his head. “Joe heard...”

“You were pretty loud,” Methos said unsympathetically.

Duncan threw the blankets off his head and looked at Methos in disbelief. “I was not!” he said.

“Were too,” Methos said.

“I didn’t hear you,” Nicole said.

“Thank God!”

~*~*~*~

Twenty minutes later, both men were showered and dressed, Duncan in the sweater Nicole had picked out for his birthday, though neither one would admit to being awake. They slunk into the kitchen and fixed themselves coffee, taking a couple sips before they could work up the courage to look at Joe. The dark circles beneath his eyes were belied by the twinkle.

“Get a room,” he said.

Duncan blushed. “Sorry, Joe,” he said.

Methos grinned, unrepentant.

“You’re wearing the pretty sweater!” Nicole squealed.

“I thought it was perfect for this special occasion,” Duncan said, leaning over to kiss the top of her head.

“I got the bacon and coffee done, you two are in charge of eggs and toast,” Joe said. “I’m putting my order in for a nice MacLeod omelet and an English muffin, please.”

“A Scottish omelet and an English muffin?” Methos asked. Duncan reached out to swat his head, but Methos was prepared for it and ducked.

“Scrambled for me, please,” Nicole said, grinning up at Duncan.

“You two have been planning this,” Duncan grumbled good-naturedly as he turned away to start the omelet.

“Well, at least you got something to show for not getting any sleep,” Joe said, and then froze. “Nic, honey, why don’t you go get that book so you can read it to us?” When Nicole was gone he grabbed Duncan’s left hand and pulled it closer, staring at the ring. “What is this?” he demanded.

“A ring,” Duncan said.

Joe looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “You didn’t have it on yesterday,” he said.

“No,” Duncan said. “I just got it.”

Joe looked between the two men, then glanced down at Methos’ hand. He pointed. “You, too?”

Methos waggled his fingers. “Me, too, what?” he teased.

Joe waved his hand at them. “All right, explain!” he said.

Duncan looked at Methos, and the other man was smiling at him. He leaned over and kissed him gently. Methos cupped his face and increased the pressure. When Duncan pulled back he was breathing hard. He took Methos’ hand in his and turned back to Joe.

“Methos asked me to marry him,” he said.

“Oh, my God,” Joe said. “Really?” Both men nodded. “Does that mean you said ‘yes’?” They nodded again. “Is that what all that noise was about last night?”

Duncan blushed and turned to Methos. “The living room is off limits from now on,” he hissed.

~*~*~*~

After breakfast, Duncan sent Joe and Nicole into the living room while he and Methos cleaned up and put the small turkey in the oven for dinner. Hand-in-hand they walked into the living room where Joe was strumming his guitar and Nicole was singing Christmas carols. She broke off as soon as she caught sight of them.

“Time for presents?” she asked excitedly.

“Time for presents,” Duncan agreed.

He and Methos got on the floor with Nicole and sorted the presents. Most of them were for her, and they got divided into piles of ‘from Santa’, ‘from Grandma’, and ‘from us’. Duncan explained that some of the presents were ones that Jessie had purchased before she died, and that’s why they were from her. Nicole cried a little bit, so Duncan held her while Methos finished sorting the gifts.

Nicole opened the presents from her grandmother first, exclaiming over each one, then the ones from Santa. She received books, board games, movies, a doll with a carriage, and a Barbie™ with a sports car. When she was wading in a pile of discarded paper and opened gifts, Nicole looked at the third pile speculatively.

“Can I open those now?” she asked.

Duncan nodded. “That one’s from Joe,” he said when he saw the one she picked up first. She scrabbled at the paper, and then stared in awe at the box.

“Oh, Joe,” she sighed. “Now I can play with you!”

“What is it?” Duncan asked, crawling over to look. “Wow! An electric keyboard. That’s going to be,” he paused and looked up at Joe, “loud.”

He helped Nicole get it out of the box and set it up, then sat back down on the couch with Methos and watched her play with it.

“You’ll teach me, right?” she asked Joe worriedly.

“You bet!” Joe said with a wide grin. “Maybe we can start a band.”

Nicole giggled. She turned her attention to the two remaining presents. When she finally decided on one, Duncan said, “That one’s from me.”

Beneath the wrapping was a box that held a porcelain doll with blonde curls and dressed in full Highland Regalia. “She’s beautiful,” Nicole breathed.

“She’s Scottish,” Duncan said.

“Like you?” Nicole asked.

“Just like me,” Duncan agreed.

“Bet you’d look better in the skirt,” Methos said quietly. Duncan poked him in the ribs with his elbow.

Nicole turned to her last gift, and glanced up at Methos with a shy smile.

“Go ahead,” he said, smiling back.

Nicole ripped off the paper and tore open the box. Inside there was a dress, a skirt and blouse, and the necessary tights. “Wow! Now I can dress up! Can I wear them today?” she asked.

“Both of them?” Methos asked.

“No, silly,” Nicole said. “But I should probably try them both on, just to make sure they fit, right?”

“Absolutely!” Methos agreed.

“Thank you, Adam!” Nicole said as she jumped into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and nearly suffocating him with the clothes.

“You’re welcome, love,” Methos said.

“Thank you, Duncan!” she said as she threw herself into Duncan’s arms.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he said, kissing her on the top of the head.

He placed her on her feet and she ran over to Joe. “Thank you, Joe,” she said, crawling into his lap and hugging him just as tightly.

“Welcome, Nic,” he said.

While Nicole was out of the room trying on her new clothes, the three men opened their gifts. From Joe, Duncan received a first edition of a book he’d mentioned wanting. Joe received a blues CD and blank sheet music from Duncan, and a new guitar from Methos. Startled into silence, he quickly set about tuning the new instrument.

Methos received one of his old journals that Joe had stumbled upon through the Watchers. He thumbed through it, pausing to read passages here and there. While he was reading, Nicole skipped into the room to model her outfits. When he returned to the present, Nicole was sitting on the floor playing with her bounty, and Joe was softly playing the new guitar.

He looked guiltily over at Duncan. “Sorry,” he said. “Got lost for a bit, there.”

Duncan smiled. “That’s all right,” he said. “You up to opening my gift?” he asked.

“Yeah!” Methos exclaimed, setting the old journal aside. “Gimme, gimme, gimme!” he said, like a child.

Duncan raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as he handed Methos the package. Methos shook it and pretended to guess what it was. Finally, he unwrapped it to reveal box that held a leather-bound journal. He flipped it open and read the inscription on the inside cover. ‘To M, For all that you are, all that you have been, and all that you will ever be, I adore you. May you fill this journal with wonderful memories of the love we share. D.’

“Oh, Duncan,” he said, leaning over and kissing the other man. “Thank you. Old memories,” he rubbed the cover of the old journal, “and new.”

“I love you, Methos.”

“I love you, too.”

“There’s more,” he said.

“More?” Methos queried.

“In the box,” Duncan said.

Methos looked back at the box the journal had come in. He pulled out a piece of paper that he thought had been packing, and unfolded it. “You got me an advertisement?” he asked, as he tried to wrap his mind around what he was seeing.

“Not quite,” Duncan said. “Our new bed. I ordered it, but they can’t deliver it until after Christmas. I wanted the four-poster king-size, and they didn’t have one in stock, so...”

It was Methos’ turn to look at Duncan with his brow raised. “Four-poster?” he asked softly. “So I should have gotten those toys...”

Duncan silenced him with a kiss. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said. Methos’ eyes widened. “I also signed us up for high-speed Internet access. I know you’d go crazy if you couldn’t play with your computer.”

“How did you do all this? When?” Methos asked.

“I was a man with a mission,” Duncan said. “I wanted to make sure you had every reason to stay.” He looked down and twirled the ring on his finger, then looked up at Methos and smiled sheepishly.

“I already have every reason to stay, Highlander,” he said.

~*~*~*~

Later that afternoon, while Joe was recovering from eating too much turkey and Nicole was once again playing with her presents, Methos sat in the desk chair and dialed the telephone. He placed the receiver to his ear and waited for the expected explosion when she heard his voice.

“Hello, Merry Christmas!” her voice tinkled over the line.

“Merry Christmas, Amanda,” he responded dryly.

“Methos! You son of a bitch! Where are you?” she yelled and Methos held the phone away from his ear. “I’ve been trying to call you, and your number’s been disconnected. I tried Joe, but he’s not in, either. I’ve left a dozen messages. And I even called your cell phone!”

Methos gingerly placed the phone back to his ear. “You know I never check that,” he said.

“Grrr! Is Joe with you? And where in hell are you, anyway?” she demanded.

“Yes, Joe is with me,” Methos said calmly. “We’re at this quaint little B&B in Nebraska.”

“Nebraska? What in hell is in...,” she trailed off. “Methos?”

“Hold on, there’s someone here who wants to speak with you.” Methos held the phone out.

Duncan nervously took the telephone from Methos and placed it to his own ear. “Amanda?” he said.

“Duncan?” she exclaimed. “Duncan! Methos and Joe are with you? Oh, Duncan, you pain in the ass, how are you? Is everything all right? Merry Christmas, Duncan!”

“Merry Christmas, Amanda,” Duncan said as he trailed his fingers over Methos’ face, the ring on his finger shining in the lamplight, matching the glimmer in Methos’ eyes. “I know this is short notice, but I was wondering if you could come to Nebraska for New Year’s Eve. Methos and I thought we’d have a party to ring in the New Year...and to celebrate our engagement.”

Amanda’s squeal of happiness nearly pierced his eardrum, and a grinning Duncan hastily pulled the phone away from his ear. He tugged Methos to his feet and pulled him into an embrace, kissing him softly, and then more deeply as Methos’ arms went around him and the other man parted his lips.

“Duncan? Duncan!” Amanda’s voice finally penetrated the love-induced fog surrounding the two men. “I heard that! Are you two kissing? Stop that right now and talk to me!”

Duncan smiled when Methos, close enough to the receiver to hear Amanda’s demand, made a loud kissing noise into the mouthpiece.

“I know that was you, Methos,” Amanda growled.

Duncan put the phone back to his ear. “Sorry about that, Amanda,” he lied. His mouth opened and closed as Amanda shot question after question at him. “Well, I invited him to come out for Christmas. Of course, I did! I am not stubborn. No, he asked me. On his knees, even. Amanda! I’m not telling you what else he did while he was on his knees! Now, about New Years Eve...”

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Fear - lyrics
> 
> Morning smiles  
> like the face of a newborn child,  
> innocent, unknowing.  
> Winter's end,  
> promises of a long lost friend.Speaks to me of comfort.
> 
> But I fear  
> I have nothing to give.  
> And I have so much  
> to lose here in this lonely place.  
> Tangled up in our embrace  
> there's nothing I'd like better than  
> to fall.  
> But I fear  
> I have nothing to give.
> 
> But I fear  
> I have nothing to give.  
> And I have so much  
> to lose here in this lonely place.  
> Tangled up in our embrace  
> there's nothing I'd like better than  
> to fall.  
> But I fear  
> I have nothing to give.
> 
> Wind in time  
> rapes the flower  
> trembling on the vine  
> and nothing yields to shelter  
> from above.  
> They say temptation will  
> destroy our love.  
> The never-ending hunger.
> 
> But I fear  
> I have nothing to give.  
> And I have so much  
> to lose here in this lonely place.  
> Tangled up in our embrace  
> there's nothing I'd like better than  
> to fall.
> 
> But I fear  
> I have nothing to give.  
> I have so much to lose.  
> I have nothing to give.  
> And we have so much to lose...


End file.
